( continues...) it. Because that coin is precious. Priceless. And to be a hero means letting our fingers plunge into the depths of our pockets, comb through the bits of lint and the paper clips and receipts, touch that coin, feel its cool weight, its smooth edges and pull it out. And you look at it, you gotta look at it, because it shines so, it is everything that is beautiful and you can’t help but stare.
And then you have to give it away. And what do you get in return? Will you get fair trade for your coin? Or will you get scammed?
Let me tell you a secret. You always gets fair price for that coin. And you always get scammed. Always.
Let me tell you another secret: anyone can be a hero once. (Some people only get the chance to be a hero once, to be fair, and I spit in the eye of anyone who denigrate THAT. They made the choice, they tossed their coin to the gods and it didn’t come back.) But the heroes that get their hero-cherry popped and live? They have a choice. Sometimes their defloration is circumstance, sometimes it’s deliberate, but then they get a choice. Because that coin always comes back into your pocket and now it’s even more beautiful. And do they keep it? Or do they give it away, again and again? Some do. For some, being the hero becomes the coin. For others, the price is simply worth it. So they’re heroes. Twice, three times, maybe a thousand.
But let me tell you straight. Just because you’re a hero doesn’t mean you’re good. Some heroes are assholes. And sometimes, to be a hero, you have to be an asshole. Like I said, there’s always a price. And that coin, sure, it’s life. But life is more than breathing and cognitive brain function. It’s made up of so much more than that. And heroes pay and pay and pay, and sometimes they steal. Because sometimes their coin alone doesn’t pay the piper.
We need heroes. We love heroes. But sometimes I don’t like them at all.