WWII military commentator? Even a dog could be one.

11 Marilyn Monroe: Can you adopt me?

Giving a speech to the Navy is undoubtedly a rare experience, and it's impossible to leave the military if you want people to recognize your military talent.

Of course, the most important thing is that they pay. Five hundred dollars is no small amount; it can easily buy a car.

I can comfortably stay at home.

When will you give the speech?

"You can go with a Los Angeles Times reporter this Friday at 2 p.m., and he will drive you there."

Alternatively, you can buy your ticket at Union Station in Los Angeles, and the Navy will send someone to pick you up after you arrive at Union Station in San Diego.

"Thank you, I'll go myself. Is the Navy paying for my speech this time?"

"Actually, the Ministry of War was the one that provided the funding this time."

Ministry of War?

Yes, Sean remembered. There was no Pentagon at that time. The War Department was officially renamed the Department of Defense after the 1948 constitutional amendment.

"In fact, the German army's operation that shocked the world—the Blitzkrieg and armored warfare—was a resounding slap in the face to those British, French, and War Ministry soldiers who were still arguing and boasting."

While they were still accusing each other of unrealistic fantasies, the German army was putting new methods of warfare into practice.

They hope to quickly understand what mechanized air-ground integrated warfare is through your speech, because they find that your tactical thinking is more profound and more in line with the essence of modern warfare than armored warfare or even blitzkrieg.

Even Germany's tactics this time were included in your theory.

It turned out to be the case.

"I will arrive on time, thank you, Editor-in-Chief."

"You're welcome. The more famous you are, the better it is for the Los Angeles Times, isn't it? I even hope that those arrogant generals will look down on you and then see the German army use your tactical ideas to take over half of Europe. That way, they'll know who's right."

"You are a truly wicked businessman."

"Thank you. I appreciate the compliment."

O'Connor pulled a stack of twenty-dollar bills from his pocket. "This is your payment."

"Thank you." Sean excitedly took it in his hand; it was five hundred dollars.

Seeing Sean get up to leave, O'Connor called him back.

"Remember to write a comment when you have time: How long did it take for Poland to be defeated?"

"Barring any unforeseen circumstances, it will be the 6th of next month."

"My God." O'Connor's eyes widened. "You can even predict the number?" "Hey Sean."

O'Connor called him again.

Sean stopped and turned back, somewhat puzzled. "WHAT?"

"Remember to buy a well-fitting outfit: a shirt, dress pants, and leather shoes. I mean, you're dealing with high-ranking officers."

Sean looked down at his pants with a pained expression.

There are large patches of marks on it; you're right, it definitely needs to be replaced.

After leaving the Los Angeles Times, Sean went to the shopping street.

Rodeo Drive, the luxury street that would later become famous, is now somewhat dilapidated.

Beverly Hills is no longer as talked about as it is fifty years later.

This horse riding trail from the Western era was originally a street lined with pubs, brothels, and tailors.

Now the ground is paved with cobblestones, and there is a fountain at the street intersection.

The surrounding area is filled with low-rise European-style buildings, watch shops, tailor shops, and everything else you could want.

As soon as I entered a tailor shop, the Italian immigrant owner came up to me.

"Are you looking to order custom-made clothing? Our garments are all handmade, made with the finest Brazilian cotton. Our fabrics are evenly textured, delicate, and breathable; even in hot California, you won't feel them rubbing against your skin."

Haha, I can actually buy custom-made clothes now!

Sean looked at the ready-made clothes in the store. "I want some trousers, short-sleeved shirts, and also shirts and dress shoes."

"Would you like a bow tie?"

"NO!" Sean refused decisively.

Despite the shopkeeper's enthusiastic recommendation, Sean looked at the man's obnoxious smile with annoyance.

"Thank you for your patronage. The total is $87."

$87, what the hell did I do?

I spent the equivalent of three weeks' worth of income.

"Okay." Sean pulled a wad of cash from his pocket.

The shop owner smiled happily and picked up a paper bag from the counter. "This is for you. It's Italian chocolate, very delicious."

There were even free gifts! "Boss, you really know how to do business."

The shopkeeper smiled happily, took the money, and gave Sean his change.

At the shop entrance, a little girl with short blonde hair watched Sean pick up a chocolate through the glass.

As she put the chocolate in her mouth, the little girl swallowed hard.

"Boss, is she your daughter?"

"No, she's an adopted child from next door. This child often runs away, and the orphanage is having a lot of trouble with her. She's already changed foster families three times."

is it?

Sean walked out of the store with the bag of clothes, took out a piece of chocolate and handed it to the other person.

The little girl was very bold; she took it and put it in her mouth.

Sean smiled gently and walked towards the station.

As I passed a shop, my petite figure was reflected in the glass behind me.

The little girl followed him the whole way.

I feel like I've become a bad uncle trying to coax a child with candy.

Sean stopped and turned around, and the little girl took a step back in fear.

Aren't you going home?

That's not my home.

"Where are your family members?"

"He's gone. My stepfather sent me to an orphanage. He was an alcoholic. I preferred to stay on the Hollywood film set so he couldn't hit me."

Are you an orphan like me now?

The little girl blinked and nodded. "Yes."

"What's your name?"

"Marilyn, my name is Marilyn. Marilyn Monroe!"

"WHAT?" Are you kidding me?

Marilyn Monroe, as the most famous Hollywood actress of the last century, influenced an entire era.

OH GOD!

Sean didn’t know her well, but he remembered that Marilyn Monroe was indeed in Los Angeles.

I heard that she had a tragic childhood and was raised by 13 different foster families.

I never imagined it was true, and that I would actually encounter it myself.

"Here, take them all." Sean took out the bag of chocolates and handed it to Marilyn.

"Thank you, sir. You're a good person."

"Don't say that, never say that."

Why?

"A girl would only say that if she didn't like the guy in front of her. What I mean is, you're a good person, but... but I think it's better if we're just friends."

"Haha!" The 13-year-old Marilyn Monroe in front of her possessed a maturity far beyond her years. She kept laughing, "You're very funny."

Sean shrugged. "Go home."

After saying that, he walked towards the station.

Upon boarding the red train, a thin figure stepped onto the door and stood in front of Sean.

"Sir, would you like to adopt a girl?"

"What did you say?"

"Would you like to adopt me? I'm 13 years old now, and in just two years I'll be able to find a job on my own. I won't be a burden to you. I mean, I can take care of myself."

"Are you kidding me?" Adopting Marilyn Monroe?

I'm still single, and now I'm going to be a dad?

Sean blinked, his eyes clenched in shock at the sudden bad news.

"I'm only 21," Sean said dejectedly.

"But you are an adult, and you have a stable income. I saw that you bought $87 worth of clothes. You are capable of adopting me."

Aren't you afraid? I'm a stranger to you.

"I'm not afraid." Marilyn smiled mischievously. "If you do anything bad, I'll report you to the police station, and the nuns at the orphanage will help me. They'll even come to see me regularly. I'm an adult."

Sean Wayne, I've heard you're quite famous.

I think you wouldn't dare do anything to me.

"Never, ever provoke a man's impulses."

"Haha!" Marilyn proudly raised her chin. "If you don't agree, I'll follow you. You're the first and only stranger I've ever met to be so kind to me."

Anyway, I was planning to find a different foster family, so I ran away.

You will be a good father.

ONLY SHIT. Will I be a good father?

No, it should be said, THE FUCKING DADDY!