The Ballad of Mona Lisa

Four years ago (I was 19 at the time), I didn’t feel like studying for my calc final. It is math, for crying out loud! And what did I do as a little break from numbers, letters, and equations? Write a little ditty, of course! Basically what I did was write a story using all (most, I think is the more accurate thing to say) of their song titles. Reading through it, I’m actually quite impressed with what I wrote because it was HARD to do, not to mention that the story, itself, is inspired by their songs. Now that Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die and “Hallelujah” are out, I might go back and try to write another one. Anyways, here’s the story, and I hope you enjoy!

That green gentleman, who lives behind the sea, gained a new perspective towards life because one day, a man who everyone considered to be mad as rabbits for eating nails for breakfast, tacks for snacks told him that lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. The gentleman had no clue what he meant by that, so the mad man told him the story about a woman, who was from a mountain in the middle of cabins, to clarify what he meant by that. He called this tragic tale The Ballad of Mona Lisa.

She had the world,” said the mad man, “because at nine in the afternoon, she was always folkin’ around with guys who thought that she’s a handsome woman. Indeed, she was, but Mona Lisa was always sad because nobody could tell her why London beckoned songs about money written by machines. One fateful day, a northern downpour occurred when the day met the night.

She  asked everyone ‘do you know what I’m seeing?’

Yet they all oddly replied ‘pas de cheval.’

 Mona Lisa thought this response to be pretty odd, so she walked into town and ran into a lawyer on the corner of 4th and Fremont Street. The lawyer lured her into his office, where each table leading up to his desk was numbered.

‘There’s a good reason why these tables are numbered honey, you just haven’t thought of it yet,’ stated the lawyer after seeing her perplexed expression.

He then pulled out two glasses, poured wine into both of them and motioned for her to drink with him, but she nodded her head no.

‘But it’s better if you do,’ exclaimed the lawyer. ‘you look parched from walking around town anyways.’

Mona Lisa couldn’t argue with that statement, so she took the glass of wine and drank it as he suspiciously watched her. After drinking the wine, she playfully asked ‘So, what kind of lawyer are you anyways? Are you the kind who makes people realize that the only difference between martyrdom and suicide is press coverage or do you just…I don’t know, do lawyery stuff?’

I write sins, not tragedies. That’s the type of lawyer I am.’

‘Ooh, that sounds fun!!’ said Mona Lisa in an excited tone.

‘Like I always say, build god, then we’ll talk.’

But that makes no sense at all.’

‘That’s enough of this chit-chat for now. Cause now, it’s time to dance’ said the frustrated lawyer.

The lawyer brought her towards the grand piano sitting in his office and she looked at it in awe.

‘Wow…I’ve always wanted to play, but I don’t own a piano,” Mona Lisa said.

‘Well, this is your night, darling. Go ahead, play it,’ replied the lawyer.

Mona Lisa took a stab at the piano and played it as if it were the only thing on her mind. Meanwhile, the lawyer put “cranberries” into her wine glass and refilled it. ‘The piano knows something I don’t know,‘ the lawyer said to himself  in a sinister manner. ‘Oh wait, I knows something that SHE doesn’t know.’

The lawyer brought the wine glass to Mona Lisa and the greedily drank the poisonous drink, thinking that it was thirst that made her constantly ask for more. After her fourth glass of wine, she collapsed on the floor and the lawyer, with an evil grin on his face, took her into his office, locked the door and maliciously said to himself ‘let’s kill tonight.'”

According to the crazy man, nobody had ever seen Mona Lisa after that night or the lawyer. The lawyer managed to escape town and start a new life because he was well connected. He told me that the lawyer would always say “I have friends in holy space,” which I guess refers to his rich friends. Poor Mona Lisa, if only she wasn’t such a flirt, then maybe, just maybe, she would still be alive.


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