:: for
pim2005 ::
Harvey Bains had very definite ideas about what he wanted his future to be. Cabinet Minister, at least. Maybe Prime Minister, as long as he didn't have to go around kissing the French President. Marriage, of course: minor royal, perhaps. Leggy, blonde, rich, dim. Or an actress. An actress would be all right, as long as it wasn't one of those mousy feminist ones.
As the years went by, life lessened Harvey's ambitions. Perhaps a city mayor. Wife a nice County girl who went hunting and wore pearls. There'd be a statue, of course, somewhere central, perhaps in a park. "Harvey Bains," people would say. "Harvey Bains. You could always tell he was going somewhere."
In the end, it didn't turn out quite like Harvey had planned, but it would please him to know that after generation and generation had gone by, after apocalypse and regime change, after fire and flood, his name would live on when men far more famous in life had been forgotten.
oOo
"Diana, will willnot you comen?!"
"Mutti, comen looklook! Bebby dun a harvey!"
oOo
But perhaps it would not please him.