I became an instant hero, I became a hero ‘on the spot’, as it were. I reached Hero Status in the blink of an eye. It happened, and then the very next moment, it unhappened! I was back to Square 1 before I knew it – all my glory gone, just like that. No heroic acts or anything like that, no chance even to sneeze, never mind engage in any proper ‘hero-type activity’. It was almost too fast to register and I couldn’t actually be sure that it had even happened…
One glimpse of the dizzying heights and then the bubble burst and I was left wallowing in the foetid marshlands of my characteristic and (needless to say) utterly ignoble egoic existence. Back to the world I know so well, back to the wretched rigmarole that is as familiar to me as my very own… my very own whatever it is. Something very familiar, anyway. ‘Here we go again’, I say to myself glumly, ‘back here yet again’. It’s familiar, but not in the least bit pleasant. Pleasant is the one thing it isn’t my friends – pleasant is the one thing it isn’t…
‘Easy come, easy go’, I hear you say, an arrogant and scathingly supercilious look on your face. ‘Tell us something we don’t know…’ You hate me, obviously, but I can’t blame you for that. No, I have to accept that, all things considered. It’s not my job to tell you something you don’t know however – it was never my job to do that. Absolutely not. Why would anyone want to do that, anyway? Nobody wants to know stuff that they don’t know, and you’d be a fool to try to tell them. You won’t get any thanks for that. No one has ever been thanked for telling people stuff that they don’t know and it’s only the foolhardy that will attempt it. The foolhardy and the… um… something else. You can fill in the blanks yourself. The foolhardy and the… ‘some other kind of thing that people can be’ which – in the ultimate analysis – isn’t a good thing to be. Some kind of thing which isn’t a great thing to be…
Back to the rigmarole, huh? Back to the bloody old rigmarole. Back to the-oh-so-familiar routine that you know so very well (on account of you being so bloody familiar with it, if you take my meaning). Back to the bloody old dingdong. Back to saying the things that you love to say, and doing the things that you love to do. Back to being you, with all that this entails. ‘That’s the ticket!’ you say to yourself brightly, determined to look on the bright side, ‘that’s jolly old ticket…’
You’re trying to gather your scattered wits together whilst doing your level best to make sure that the effort – considerable as it is – doesn’t show on your face. You’re confabulating for all you’re worth, desperately trying to keep the show on the road. It’s unlikely that anyone will notice your distress, however – no one gives a shit and so you’ll probably get away with it. It’s amazing what you can get away with at the end of the day. I’d say you’ll probably et away with it, not that it makes much – if any – difference at the end of the day, of course…
