Alternative accounts of this strange guy, who both is too uncreative to think of a name and doesn’t even do that grammatically correctly:
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎
This story starts – like so many stories – somewhere in the nowhere… (Question while thinking about this expression: Is that the same like: Nowhere in the somewhere? Or is it both rubbish? Well, in this case I might – of course – also write: Nowhere in the somewhere. It’s both rubbish. According to this, it wouldn’t matter if I wrote: This text contains one and three quarters of a strawberry cake. Hmmm… Maybe this cake tastes like raspberry. Sounds good. I like this cake. Er, yes, back to the story…) So the story starts nowhere in a strawberry cake… I guess, it was something like this, yeah. We see a person. I mean, a hero. A fierce and strong hero. Oh… You think, we see a muscular person with eyes, darker than the night, his hair dirty, in his hand a sword, larger than himself. That’s what you think, isn’t it? Oh, I’ll describe him a bit more. We see a person. I mean, a hero. A fierce and strong hero. Tall and thin. His hair looks as if it had never seen a comb before, and that’s right. Neither the hair, nor its hero has seen a comb yet. The hero peeps very clear from under his hair. Like a scientist. Or, let’s say scatterbrained. But also like a scientist. He peeps scatterbrained like a scientist. Sounds good, in my opinion. In his left hand he’s holding a book which displays the letter DIEARY. He’s sitting on a chair and thinks of a good phrase for his diary. Something like:
Tried to find out Toto’s gender. Got seriously hurt. I think I’ll just continue writing “he”.
Now he’s writing something down. We can’t read it, his letters are too scrawly. A person comes in. He greets the hero, then sits down in front of him. Asks him, how he is. The usual empty phrases. ‘Well, Mr The Ineffable’, he starts now, ‘tell me: Why are you here?’ A quiet murmur leaves The Ineffable’s mouth.. He clears his throat, then starts talking: ’It’s… I mean… Well, I’m a liar!’ ‘I see. You are a liar.’ One of his eyebrows raises. Aren’t we all liars, in some way?’ He laughs. ‘Tell me your story’, he carries on, ‘maybe I’ll be able to help you afterwards…’
Nodding, The Ineffable begins to tell, and it seems as if his spirit leaves his body and wanders slowly through the past, inspiring his mouth. Ok, actually the only thing to happen is The Ineffable starting to say words, but I once heard it would be good to write a bit more … let’s say ‘fantastic’. ‘My childhood was beautiful, everything was ok. But when I became an adult, I met this CENSORED god who forgot his name – isn’t that kinda dumb, I mean, such dimensions of stupidity! – that’s why he calls himself always ‘PutInNameHere’, he always says: “The people believing in me shall give me all glorious names they know and besides they shall believe that one name isn’t enough to describe all my greatness!” I always have to call him “Almighty One”, “Omnipotent One”, blah, blah, blah… He’s so self-centred! And he wants me to behave like the “chosen-one” he considers me to be and I shall write my progress in my diary. Of course he wants me to be the stereotype of a hero: Tall. Muscular. Dumb. And I? I always write funny phrases in my diary to enjoy him. Nothing, I repeat Nothing! in there’ he holds his diary up ‘is true. I just sit there all the time and write and write and…’ ‘…write. Yes, yes, I see’, the psychologist answers slowly.
The hero looks up. ‘Sometimes I’ve got the feeling that you and me, these damn gods and these overzealous heroes and heroines, we all are just pieces in a game. A bigger game!’
We zoom out. We see a big finger, typing words into a mobile phone.
We zoom in again. Suddenly, dozens of cherubs appear and perform an air ballet that forms the words ‘Mikhail Platov’. The psycologist’s face becomes white. ’That’s weird! And what – for heaven’s sake! – is a Mikhail Platov?!’ ‘I don’t have any idea. But maybe it’s got something to do with this “bigger game” I was talking about. Who knows… Actually, I’m not interested in it. To be honest, I am as interested in it as in killing monsters and representing a mad god! Hey, you up there! Yes, you with the ugly mug! I quit being a hero! Bye, bye hero-life!’
The feeling of a divine finger pushing a Punish-Button makes him hesitate. Think about his decision. His skin burning like fire, he settles very fast to learn what being a hero really is about.
To put an end to this story: If he hasn’t died yet, he still lives on today he still kills monsters, and in case he died: There’s always a god to say ‘Nevermind!’ and resurrect the poor hero…
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎
© by Potatocorporations
All rights conserved.
All information is subject in range.
We don’t assume lie-ability.
May the force be with you!
All orthographical and grammatical errors are to be interpreted by future students.
Please do me the favour to laugh even if you feel like crying about this piece of art.
When it’s bad, it’s either art or a local speciality.
And of course:
DON’T PANIC!
﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎