Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Stickboy's Lament

I live in a nice little townhome community. I've been there for almost three years. I don't know a single one of my neighbors. There's the neighbor who will half-assedly complain about the volume of our movie viewing (presumably at his wife's behest). Whenever that happens, Otter drunkenly apologizes, while I hunt for the proper remote control to turn down the volume from 50 to 46 (it's the gray remote). We don't know their names, though. We also have the loud, too friendly redhead neighbor girl who drives the red BMW - I stay away from her - there's something creepy about people who are too sociable. I'm frightened she's a swinger. Fortunately, I think she just moved out last week. Hopefully, she will be replaced by a new person who knows to stay in his or her house where he or she belongs and, if I meet them at the mailbox, knows enough to throw me the head nod and not try to engage me in conversation. Let's face it, I probably won't care what they have to say. Dammit, I think I just made myself hate my new neighbors without having ever met them - I hate it when my (prospective)neighbors do that to me.

I guess I could also wish for three hot single 25-year olds to move in and invite me over for balanced meals and quiet conversation about how hot they are, or how Handsome I am. I don't know what Otter and Pudge (the rest of the management) would do without me - I guess they'd have to drive out other neighbors and replace them with their own bevy of (lesser*) beauties.

Other than Browbeaten-could-you-turn-that-down-a-bit-husband and Freakishly-friendly-probably-a-swinger-deviant-red-head-girl-who-hopefully-moved-out-last-week-to-be-replaced-by-three-hot-girls, I don't know any of my neighbors.

Actually, I don't know any of my neighbors except one. That one is enough (except for the prospective hot girls). I also know a legend in the making when I see one. It's a special talent I have. Actually, this legend would be better served to have lived 300 years ago. Still, that does not dull my wonderment whenever I see him. "Greatness" is "Greatness" regardless of what place he happens to fall in the timeline. His name? No one knows. I doubt anyone ever will, but his legend - his LEGEND - will live on.

We call him STICKBOY, and he's lived the lives of a thousand heroes (if you're into that reincarnation stuff). Which I am, but only as it applies to Stickboy.

Stickboy first came to our attention when we heard a mysterious sound outside our window one Saturday (I guess) morning. A glance out the window confirmed that, indeed, Stickboy was engaged in a fabulous duel with our decidedly evil cable box. As he deftly parried the best attacks the cable box presented, we saw in Stickboy the best of ourselves. Brave, steadfast in the pursuit of all that is good, persistent, but with a certain mean streak. He's going to make a great drunk someday. Riveted, we watched as the battle progressed. Stickboy shifted to his left, parried a blow from the evil cable box and swiftly returned a lightning quick riposte, slashing quickly and delivering a devastating blow.

We remained rooted to our spot, safely away from the conflict, viewing silently lest we disturb the master at his work. After what seemed hours, the tide of the battle began to clearly favor the mighty Stickboy. Soon, the Cable Box was beaten down, barely able raise its weapons in its defense. Seeing this weakness, Stickboy recognized his vast advantages and began striking huge, punishing two-handed blows and it seemed the conflict was nearing an end. Unfortuately, at the moment victory seemed secure, the Evil Cable Box, through some arcane rite, lashed out and broke Stickboy's most powerful weapon. Suddenly, simply, Stickboy was just a boy.

Nonetheless, Stickboy perservered and smote Cable Box with the sheer force of his substantial will, and the remaining portion of his mighty stick. However, it was a gray day in our household. How could Stickboy defend us without his most powerful weapon, which, let's face it, is way cooler than a sword. Wounded and distraught, Stickboy dragged himself away from the battle - Stickless.

Fortunately, Stickboy must have a connection with the Lady of the Lake. Although, there isn't really a lake nearby. Maybe she was slumming at the drainage pond down at the bottom of the hill. I heard that after the Excalibur debacle, she got hooked on smack. However, it happened, a miracle occurred - maybe for both she and Stickboy. For, not two days later, I saw Stickboy valiantly defending our little villa betwixt the highways with - you'll never guess - a newer and more powerful stick. You got stick? I didn't think so. The Stickmeister was back.

After he saved us from the scourge of the evil tree, and then later the evil swingset, and then the evil trashcan (apparently Stickboy don't take no lip), we had a parade for him.

The Stickboy parade got me to thinking. Is Stickboy really an apt name for our hero. Many years ago, a boy with some acumen with the stick could get somewhere. He could aspire to some special greatness with a special title. Like, he could have been called Deathblighter (and conducted interviews with the local media after his heroics), or Iron Wing for his prowess with the staff. Now, in this age, what's he going to be? He's just a hero with a stick.

All he can ever aspire to be is Stickman, or maybe a logger or something. Baseball? Is there a future for Stickboy? I'll keep you updated - meanwhile, our cable hasn't given us any problems since Stickboy took it upon himself to save our MTV. Why couldn't Stickboy have lived long ago? Why is his name not written amongst the great heroes? Why couldn't we think of a more imaginative name?

We call him Stickboy, and this is his lament.

Kid Handsome

* They aren't remotely as Handsome as I.


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