concretekiss

My butt hurts, you guys. I burnt it pretty bad at the pool, layin on my tummy in the sun, makin drawrings. It is painful to sit on it, which makes me grumpy. I'm also ovulatory. This could be the part of the story where I become a villain.
I have been thinking alot about villains, and what makes them. I like narratives that show the transformation of an antagonist. Kids made fun of him too much. She was too pretty, too ugly, or her sister was too pretty. He was too rich or poor, got double crossed, spoiled, neglected, greedy, abused, heart-broken, saw too many people get shot all the time. He must stop Christmas from coming. He must make a skin coat out of other women's flesh. He struck oil. He is a cyborg.
Sometimes debauchery is a family business. Sometimes it is just a bad day or couple of weeks that create the public enemy. A string of catastrophes push him over the edge. A surgery went wrong. It was all a big mistake and too late to turn back now.
What's remarkable is that every catalyst for villainy can in turn be the cause for heroism, so that a reliable recipe for depravity (or nobility) is immeasurable.
My friend Brian was hit and run while on his bicycle in a well-to-do neighborhood. The collision broke his leg and knocked him unconscious into the nearby bushes. More than likely, because he had sleeve tattoos and looked what some might call intimidating or mean, the lady in the expensive restaurant told him to leave when he limped through the door to ask for help. You would think that people from such a respectable part of town would be more kind. And it also goes to show that Brian, as villainous as some may find him to appear is one of the most loyal, honest and sweet persons I know. But after all this shit I could see him waking up from the surgery today and being a total villain, or at least I want to for him.
On the days where everything hurts my feelings, when I'm ovulating and everyone cuts me off in traffic, complete strangers give me the stink eye and birds are merrily crapping all over my car I think of turning into a villain late in the night, developing a strange and wicked idiosyncrasy or facial tick, maybe buying a hairless dog, or a hairy dog and shaving it until I get the money for an evil hairless one and then abandoning the hairy dog like the wild heartless barbarian I have become.
Gosh my ass really stings and not for the reasons I would prefer it to. And still I rise above, but I don't exactly know why, other than I've been taught all my life that it's what "strong" people do, which are "things" the "hard way," which is not necessarily eating fried chicken with a spoon, or driving with your feet.
It's something to be proud of, the guts to be gentle and kind, like Moz says. The resolve to overcome villains without turning bad gives one a sense of satisfaction that is not unlike the sense of satisfaction a villain gets when he steals your car radio. But you can't cash pride in at the pawn shop or rub it on yr charred ass.
Why don't bad guys have to overcome heroism all the time, or constantly fight the urge to be a hero? Is it because more often, desolation is abundant, which fuels disdain? Good people though, are often tempted to throw away their badges. They are always getting scammed and shot at and metaphorically buried alive and their metaphoric girlfriends metaphorically killt. I don't know. I have had alot of coffee. And now I need to stand up for a while. Maybe we can't all join the Cobra Kai because that would just be boring.