What does it take these days to be a hero? It's no longer knights in shining armour and rebels like Robin Hood. It's something a lot less obvious. And I should know, I've been trying like hell.
This last week I entered a burning building to rescue a(more) trapped cat. The little girl whisked it away and scolded it on the nose, not a single thank you. The crowd didn't look up at me in awe. A fireman simply told me off for endangering myself. How can one be a hero when it's seen as foolish and reckless? I burned down half a building to prove a point and for what?
The next day I tried something a little simpler. I chased down a thief who stole a lady's handbag. I ran for three blocks, dodged cars and returned it to the woman, who complained about all the dropped items and went off to pick them off the pavement. I paid the guy twenty bucks and still no smiles of gratitude or admiration?
It's no wonder some heroes turn to the other side of the coin; villainry. Why care about how nice someone thinks you are, when you can make them fear you to their very core?
I made headline news this week. I robbed a dairy. I killed a man. Sitting here in this jail cell has made me question a few things. Not one of them being my new status in society.
The swirling void appeared in the apartment three days previous behind the couch. Harrison was the first to notice after he somehow dropped his new pipe back there and pulled the couch out looking for it. The pipe was gone but the still smoldering bud was sitting right in(more) the middle of the void as if held in place by a thin, clear piece of glass or plastic.
Harrison was attempting to drop various objects into the void when Franklin got home from work. To the left of the void was a pile of things that the void wouldn't take and on a notepad Harrison had compiled a list of things that the void deemed acceptable enough to swallow and send to who knows where.
"Is the hardware store still open? Oh, you weren't too attached to attached to that coconut carved into a pirate's face your sister sent you from Florida, were you?" Harrison asked.
Franklin wasn't. He opened his bag and fished out a cd one of his co-workers had given him. An original recording of terrible music the co-worker composed and performed himself. Franklin dropped it onto the void, watched it get sucked down and disappear. Harrison recorded it in his notebook.
"It wouldn't take Buddy Holly or Siouxsie and the Banshees." Harrison reported.
Franklin rubbed his throat. He notices one of the pillows from the couch was missing as was a curtain, a lamp and the cases to four videogames but not the games themselves.
Harrison consulted his list. "Cups but not plates or bowls. Spoons but not forks, those butter knives we got at Goodwill but not the ones I kept stealing from the cafe. Milk but not the container."
"Hardware store closes in two hours. Goodwill too. It's gonna be a long night."(less)
You know if you feed that machine the wrong thing you'll be in deep shit trouble. It's a sensitive, expensive work of functional art--you've heard. Ad nauseum. You've heard about the soft purr of the engine and the turning radius and how gentle yo(more)u should be with the break but the ode to new car had not covered this...(less)