Happily Ever After....Are you sure about that?
Hey,
This is a story I wrote WAAY back for some English work. My Mum just sent it back to me and suggesting I illistrate it and see if I can do anything with it. Been tempted to write a sequel to it. Might pull my finger out and do it some point during the holidays. Might be fun.
Anyway here's the original version of this work. It still has a few bugs in it (my english skills are crap now so think how back they were with I was younger) and before any additions or tinkerings with it.
Enjoy
Happily ever after. You sure about that?
Have you ever stopped and thought after watching a film ‘What ever happened next’ or while reminiscing with friends ‘what happened to that person? You know the one, the one that used to be famous’.
Well have you ever thought, what happens after the happy ending? When the hero rides off into the sunset hand in hand with his mates. Of course, you have they’re the hero after all but have you ever thought what happens to the villain after his had his world domination plans dashed? Oh, of course you haven’t they’re the ‘Bad guys’ they’re ‘evil’ they’re the ones that deserves to have their butts kick and noses bloodied. They don’t mind, they haven’t got any feelings or a heart.
I’m fed up of hearing about the damm heroes all the time, so, I’m going tell you what happens to them, to me. You see, right now I’m sitting in the smoking remains of what used to be the state of the art Evil doers secret lair, ok so its not so secret now, with laser scorch marks across my outfit and brick dust in my hair not to mention a few broken ribs from being launched across the room.
An evil genius just can’t get the right help nowadays.
My mother would blame me as usual ‘ its your own fault for cost cutting on henchmen. Barry would never cost cut on henchmen. He buys the most heartless and destructible ones that are on offer no matter what the price.’ ‘You call your self a villain stealing socks. Barry had already held the world to ransom twice at your age AND he blackmail the President!’ Barry this, Barry that, that’s all she goes on about. So ok I did pick up the family trade a little later than my older brother, so what, I had small ambitions. I really did think that my plan of taking over the world by stealing just one sock from the wash would work. I thought it was a sure thing to drive everyone mad hunting around their houses for a single sock and that they would be glad to buy them back, as they say time is money, surely people would be willing to give a thousand pounds to a lunatic in spandex. It didn’t catch on. People would rather waste hours of their precious time searching for one sock than part with their money. It just goes to show how stubborn and stingy some people can be. If I said that the money was going to charity people would have been jumping at the chance to empty out their wallets. People are more willing to hand over hard earned money to a giant yellow bear even though they know it’s really a sad, lonely, little man who can’t get a real job, in a suit, all because it’s for charity.
Apart from comparing me to my brother all the time, another hobby of hers is to continually remind me that I am the failure in the family. Well she has to do something in her retirement she’s really not the knitting kind of woman, which is a good thing as I’m starting to run out of room to store all the nooses she keeps knitting me for Christmas. ‘You’re a disgrace to your fathers memory if he could see you now he would swear that you weren’t his son.’
My dad spent a lot of time trying to create an impenetrable laboratory for him to do all his scheming in, as the saying goes ‘a mad scientists home is his lab filled with dangerous chemicals’. It had everything, huge supercomputers, weapons storage space, chemicals, and torture chamber big enough to contain his ego while gloating to captured foes and a huge wide screen television it even had a room specially designed for him to practice his evil laughter. He spent years on it. It took him months just to install the self-destruct button for the extreme case where he may have to destroy a vast amount of incriminating evidence. The time came for him to try his lair out, that’s when he had his little accident. During his battle with his nemesis, flyboy’s dad, he accidentally pressed the self-destruct button instead of the button, which reveals the shark tank hidden underneath the floor. My dad, like most men, hated reading instructions and he mixed up the two coloured buttons. Lucky he had sensibly put a 3-minute timer on it, so he could get away in time before the whole place blew but, unlucky, he forgot to build an emergency exit. Good old Dad always forgetting important things, his keys, emergency exits, wedding anniversaries, very important birthdays. He took it that hard that he had forgotten such an important element of a lab that he when to pieces. Well more small, brown, crispy chunks that people were removing from their hair 3 miles away.
Well anyway, older and wiser I came up with a sure fire plan to take over the world by threatening world leaders with the collapse of the computer networks and the Internet. I had everything worked out to the minute’s detail. My mother was even impressed (if you could call not talking to me impressed. Well at least she didn’t insult me!) but I was not ready for them. Them the band of freaks! I can’t believe I didn’t see them coming. Who could have guessed a freak accident involving some toxic ooze would give them useful but weird talents instead of killing them. Blasting their way through the wall taking out 10 of my under paid minions in one move, destroying expensive equipment that had been very difficult to find on the villains black market which were vital to a villains ego.
That’s another thing my mother likes to comment on the fact that I was always worried about saving money and that I was never willing to do everything and anything to make sure that my plans worked. Again, my mother went on about bad old Barry who loved to make everyone’s lives miserable and how proud she is of him.
As you can guess, I got my backside well and truly kicked not just from the mutant freaks. My mum can throw a nice right hook when in the right mood, well she’s had enough practise with me as a son.
Reporters turned up all dying to get a bonus by securing a world exclusive with the ‘Heroes’, forgetting about me totally. They come and they leave as soon as flyboy makes another unplanned skylight leaving me to pick up the remains of my battered, rather bruised pride. Rummaging around the remains, I find this card with an address on it and ‘Here to give good, bad advice to those who don’t want it’. I turn it over and in childish scrawl, I read ‘I’ll see you later after your meeting, always helping the unbelievably helpless.’ Flyboy and co. Great they destroyed my home, break a couple of my ribs and then offer me therapy to say thanks for making their job so easy.
So I took the advice, actually off the record I didn’t have the choice I was forced to go. Just the idea of me sitting in a room full of failures made me sick. I would rather be forced to listen to my mother go off on one than to go to a SVA (super villains anonymous) meeting. Anyway entering the room looking round the hopeless faces of all the long gone washed up villains. There was the glittering black spandex of Nightmareo, great guy gave me a wonderful lair warming present, super torture chair that came with washable covers, metal straps to hold your nemesis down and a groovy little cup holder. I could also make out the white lab coat and wild hair of Dr. Von Darkroom and of course, the famous sleek shiny baldhead and crisp suit of the ultimate hero of the underdogs. What’s his name? I can’t quite remember it. Also not forgetting the unknown small time crooks defeated before they had even the chance to perfect the art of the evil laugh. In all, there must have been a nice little group of around 50 washed up villains all recently evicted from their liars.
The first to volunteer to tell their tragic tale was a rather surprising character. A young woman who looked like a newsreader stood up.
‘My name is Lane and I was … Hey excuse me don’t I know you?’ she started to scowl at Nightmereo. Poor half mutated man, he never had the luck with the women.
‘Who me nah you got the wrong per…’
Wham, followed by a loud crack kindly stopped him finishing his sentence.
‘Why I auttah…’
A huge fight broke out. Just as Lane was about to land a blow, with her rather sharp looking stiletto heel on Nightmaero’s crown jewels, Neil the organiser interrupted at just the right moment.
‘Erm excuse me why are you here again’
‘I was kidnapped and nearly killed by this moron on my wedding day.’
‘I’m sorry lane I think you are in the wrong group. Hmmm I think you need the ‘ Poor saps that fell in love with super heroes and received the tragic consequences’ group. Third door on the left’
‘Ah…erm… sorry for interrupting. Thanks. I’ll be seeing you later.’
‘I give up this is just a waste of precious sulking time’ and so I walked out. Half way down the corridor, I heard my name being shouted and footsteps running to catch up. ‘Oh God not you. I bet you just came back to gloat.’
‘A Super Hero never gloats. Just merely tries to highlight points that need improving which could even up the odds you see a Superhero always offers help to those who truly need it.’
‘Thanks but I don’t need your help.’
‘Come on you really need my help look just listen…so your not so good at being a villain anyone can see that your good inside.’
Here he goes again with the sappy stuff. Like I’ve never heard that before. A few more seconds and he’ll come up with the Idea of me joining him. Again.
‘I know, I know, I need a sidekick and you know how a villain thinks why don’t we team up. Yeah yeah you and me side by side’
Yeah, till the cameras turn up and then I’ll be in the shadows getting trampled over by his adoring fans. He only wants me to make him look better.
Hang on ‘Hey why do you need a new sidekick this quick. What happened this time?’ between you and me, he has a little problem with his sidekicks. He gave the usual awkward cough meaning he got kinda carried away with his laser power. All I can say is I’m glad it didn’t happen in my lair. Toasted sidekick is a nightmare to get out of the carpet.
‘Well that’s handy it saves me the job of killing them myself. How many do you have left? Just so I know how many assassins to hire before you go thinking that I cared or anything.’
‘None’ he sniffed
‘What! You took all four of them out!’ It surprised, me the most the idiots done before is two. In one go that is, oh and not to mention 8 of his unlucky, but still happy, band of recently mutilated friends. He nodded slowly his eyes filling up with tears. Oh god I see a scene coming. Please don’t let anyone see this dummy with me.
‘Will you be my sidekick? come on the agency won’t give me anymore they say that I am ruining their insurance premiums. Please. Please. Pleeeassseee’ He grabbed my legs and started to cry hysterically.
‘No.’ ‘Get off’. ‘Oh, come on …eugh… ewww. stop wiping your nose on my cape. Ow! Come on let go I can hear my legs breaking’
‘Please’ he whimpered looking up at me with puppy dog eyes while still hold my legs WAY too tight. Its so embarrassing seeing the great lummox cry.
‘No, no NO!….. Oh, come on get off already, I said no. As much as I want a tan I rather get it in a none certain death way. Look I’ll do a deal you get off and stop your blubbering and I’ll think about it.’ Lying is a very important villain survival skill.
‘You mean, it you truly mean it?’ he sniffed
‘Yes, just let go, your cutting off the blood to my legs’ Note children the use of Crossed figures behind back. Very useful skill, which can get you out of a lot of trouble.
‘Put me down, hey, HEY! Put me down’ Crash, crack. Dam there goes another two ribs thanks god I took out life insurance ‘Gently’.
Walking back to my lair with this idiot by my side going on about codes of superhero conduct telling a rather uninterested me all about the ‘do’s and don’ts’ of the superhero handbook and how nice I have been. NICE! How dare he use that word in my presence? Anyway, I tell you its amazing how he and his gang save the world, honestly everyone thinks they’re so great because they have rippleling muscles, handsome good looks, superpowers and well everything that I don’t have. What they don’t understand is, that’s all making up for the fact that they have VERY little up top in the brains department. I mean come on name me one genius that wears his underpants over TIGHTS. How can any of the magazines call that a ‘fashion statement’ or say it’s ‘a sign of a true artist.’ The truth is he can’t dress himself that despite having all those powers he still manages to walk into the wrong wardrobe everyday.
The real heroes aren’t those guys with the perfect teeth that stare at you grinning madly on the cover of a magazine flexing their massive muscles telling how they thwarted the latest evildoers plans. The true heroes are the pathetic excuse for company that tags along. The sidekicks. They do all the hard work so the Hero can reap all the benefits but the part I don’t understand is THEY LIKE IT! Why would anyone enjoy a sack full of brainless muscle taking all the credit while they get fried by their pal in the cross fire I don’t know.
I finally get rid of the muscle head, thanks to some fire in Peru, earthquake in America and a publicity shoot for Hello magazine entitled ‘What’s Inside the Brawn?’. Answer: nothing. There you go, an award-winning article that’s worth millions maybe even billions despite it being only two words. Sitting down again in the smoking remains I just sit and stare into the abyss.
I can’t sulk for the rest of my life, not because its embarrassing watching a grown man cry but because my butts getting numb sitting on these bricks. My mother is right I will be a failure and a waste of space. I Need to sort myself out. I need to make an amazing comeback, which every aspiring villain can look up to. I could be more famous than….than…. what was that guy at the meetings name is? Ah who cares I’ll be bigger than him. I’ll ruin the reputations of politicians, lawyers and journalists so everyone thinks that they are lying, dishonourable members of society! Just think of all the possibilities that would create! I could corrupt the world! HAHAHAHA! Nah. What I would like to be, really, is an animal sanctuary owner. I would just love looking after fluffy bunnies, cute little puppies and not forgetting sweet tiny kittens with little pink noses.
So there you go. Once the hero rides off into the sunset mates and girlfriend in hand this is what they leave behind them. Not just billions of pounds worth of damage to public property where they get carried away, but me, us, the nemesis, villains, bad guys what ever you want to call us. We are left to pick ourselves up and to repair the damage all to carry on with the job some of us never really ask for. Just as somebody has to clean up the sewers, somebody has to have the job of letting the ‘good guys’ and ‘heroes’ win. All to keep the masses happy. See with out us there wouldn’t be anyone for children to look up to and to admire, there would be no entertainment, life would be dull and boring . So just before you start cheering on your favourite heroes stop and pause for the moment to say a small thanks to the poor guys who are about to spend the next six months in a coma.
This is a story I wrote WAAY back for some English work. My Mum just sent it back to me and suggesting I illistrate it and see if I can do anything with it. Been tempted to write a sequel to it. Might pull my finger out and do it some point during the holidays. Might be fun.
Anyway here's the original version of this work. It still has a few bugs in it (my english skills are crap now so think how back they were with I was younger) and before any additions or tinkerings with it.
Enjoy
Happily ever after. You sure about that?
Have you ever stopped and thought after watching a film ‘What ever happened next’ or while reminiscing with friends ‘what happened to that person? You know the one, the one that used to be famous’.
Well have you ever thought, what happens after the happy ending? When the hero rides off into the sunset hand in hand with his mates. Of course, you have they’re the hero after all but have you ever thought what happens to the villain after his had his world domination plans dashed? Oh, of course you haven’t they’re the ‘Bad guys’ they’re ‘evil’ they’re the ones that deserves to have their butts kick and noses bloodied. They don’t mind, they haven’t got any feelings or a heart.
I’m fed up of hearing about the damm heroes all the time, so, I’m going tell you what happens to them, to me. You see, right now I’m sitting in the smoking remains of what used to be the state of the art Evil doers secret lair, ok so its not so secret now, with laser scorch marks across my outfit and brick dust in my hair not to mention a few broken ribs from being launched across the room.
An evil genius just can’t get the right help nowadays.
My mother would blame me as usual ‘ its your own fault for cost cutting on henchmen. Barry would never cost cut on henchmen. He buys the most heartless and destructible ones that are on offer no matter what the price.’ ‘You call your self a villain stealing socks. Barry had already held the world to ransom twice at your age AND he blackmail the President!’ Barry this, Barry that, that’s all she goes on about. So ok I did pick up the family trade a little later than my older brother, so what, I had small ambitions. I really did think that my plan of taking over the world by stealing just one sock from the wash would work. I thought it was a sure thing to drive everyone mad hunting around their houses for a single sock and that they would be glad to buy them back, as they say time is money, surely people would be willing to give a thousand pounds to a lunatic in spandex. It didn’t catch on. People would rather waste hours of their precious time searching for one sock than part with their money. It just goes to show how stubborn and stingy some people can be. If I said that the money was going to charity people would have been jumping at the chance to empty out their wallets. People are more willing to hand over hard earned money to a giant yellow bear even though they know it’s really a sad, lonely, little man who can’t get a real job, in a suit, all because it’s for charity.
Apart from comparing me to my brother all the time, another hobby of hers is to continually remind me that I am the failure in the family. Well she has to do something in her retirement she’s really not the knitting kind of woman, which is a good thing as I’m starting to run out of room to store all the nooses she keeps knitting me for Christmas. ‘You’re a disgrace to your fathers memory if he could see you now he would swear that you weren’t his son.’
My dad spent a lot of time trying to create an impenetrable laboratory for him to do all his scheming in, as the saying goes ‘a mad scientists home is his lab filled with dangerous chemicals’. It had everything, huge supercomputers, weapons storage space, chemicals, and torture chamber big enough to contain his ego while gloating to captured foes and a huge wide screen television it even had a room specially designed for him to practice his evil laughter. He spent years on it. It took him months just to install the self-destruct button for the extreme case where he may have to destroy a vast amount of incriminating evidence. The time came for him to try his lair out, that’s when he had his little accident. During his battle with his nemesis, flyboy’s dad, he accidentally pressed the self-destruct button instead of the button, which reveals the shark tank hidden underneath the floor. My dad, like most men, hated reading instructions and he mixed up the two coloured buttons. Lucky he had sensibly put a 3-minute timer on it, so he could get away in time before the whole place blew but, unlucky, he forgot to build an emergency exit. Good old Dad always forgetting important things, his keys, emergency exits, wedding anniversaries, very important birthdays. He took it that hard that he had forgotten such an important element of a lab that he when to pieces. Well more small, brown, crispy chunks that people were removing from their hair 3 miles away.
Well anyway, older and wiser I came up with a sure fire plan to take over the world by threatening world leaders with the collapse of the computer networks and the Internet. I had everything worked out to the minute’s detail. My mother was even impressed (if you could call not talking to me impressed. Well at least she didn’t insult me!) but I was not ready for them. Them the band of freaks! I can’t believe I didn’t see them coming. Who could have guessed a freak accident involving some toxic ooze would give them useful but weird talents instead of killing them. Blasting their way through the wall taking out 10 of my under paid minions in one move, destroying expensive equipment that had been very difficult to find on the villains black market which were vital to a villains ego.
That’s another thing my mother likes to comment on the fact that I was always worried about saving money and that I was never willing to do everything and anything to make sure that my plans worked. Again, my mother went on about bad old Barry who loved to make everyone’s lives miserable and how proud she is of him.
As you can guess, I got my backside well and truly kicked not just from the mutant freaks. My mum can throw a nice right hook when in the right mood, well she’s had enough practise with me as a son.
Reporters turned up all dying to get a bonus by securing a world exclusive with the ‘Heroes’, forgetting about me totally. They come and they leave as soon as flyboy makes another unplanned skylight leaving me to pick up the remains of my battered, rather bruised pride. Rummaging around the remains, I find this card with an address on it and ‘Here to give good, bad advice to those who don’t want it’. I turn it over and in childish scrawl, I read ‘I’ll see you later after your meeting, always helping the unbelievably helpless.’ Flyboy and co. Great they destroyed my home, break a couple of my ribs and then offer me therapy to say thanks for making their job so easy.
So I took the advice, actually off the record I didn’t have the choice I was forced to go. Just the idea of me sitting in a room full of failures made me sick. I would rather be forced to listen to my mother go off on one than to go to a SVA (super villains anonymous) meeting. Anyway entering the room looking round the hopeless faces of all the long gone washed up villains. There was the glittering black spandex of Nightmareo, great guy gave me a wonderful lair warming present, super torture chair that came with washable covers, metal straps to hold your nemesis down and a groovy little cup holder. I could also make out the white lab coat and wild hair of Dr. Von Darkroom and of course, the famous sleek shiny baldhead and crisp suit of the ultimate hero of the underdogs. What’s his name? I can’t quite remember it. Also not forgetting the unknown small time crooks defeated before they had even the chance to perfect the art of the evil laugh. In all, there must have been a nice little group of around 50 washed up villains all recently evicted from their liars.
The first to volunteer to tell their tragic tale was a rather surprising character. A young woman who looked like a newsreader stood up.
‘My name is Lane and I was … Hey excuse me don’t I know you?’ she started to scowl at Nightmereo. Poor half mutated man, he never had the luck with the women.
‘Who me nah you got the wrong per…’
Wham, followed by a loud crack kindly stopped him finishing his sentence.
‘Why I auttah…’
A huge fight broke out. Just as Lane was about to land a blow, with her rather sharp looking stiletto heel on Nightmaero’s crown jewels, Neil the organiser interrupted at just the right moment.
‘Erm excuse me why are you here again’
‘I was kidnapped and nearly killed by this moron on my wedding day.’
‘I’m sorry lane I think you are in the wrong group. Hmmm I think you need the ‘ Poor saps that fell in love with super heroes and received the tragic consequences’ group. Third door on the left’
‘Ah…erm… sorry for interrupting. Thanks. I’ll be seeing you later.’
‘I give up this is just a waste of precious sulking time’ and so I walked out. Half way down the corridor, I heard my name being shouted and footsteps running to catch up. ‘Oh God not you. I bet you just came back to gloat.’
‘A Super Hero never gloats. Just merely tries to highlight points that need improving which could even up the odds you see a Superhero always offers help to those who truly need it.’
‘Thanks but I don’t need your help.’
‘Come on you really need my help look just listen…so your not so good at being a villain anyone can see that your good inside.’
Here he goes again with the sappy stuff. Like I’ve never heard that before. A few more seconds and he’ll come up with the Idea of me joining him. Again.
‘I know, I know, I need a sidekick and you know how a villain thinks why don’t we team up. Yeah yeah you and me side by side’
Yeah, till the cameras turn up and then I’ll be in the shadows getting trampled over by his adoring fans. He only wants me to make him look better.
Hang on ‘Hey why do you need a new sidekick this quick. What happened this time?’ between you and me, he has a little problem with his sidekicks. He gave the usual awkward cough meaning he got kinda carried away with his laser power. All I can say is I’m glad it didn’t happen in my lair. Toasted sidekick is a nightmare to get out of the carpet.
‘Well that’s handy it saves me the job of killing them myself. How many do you have left? Just so I know how many assassins to hire before you go thinking that I cared or anything.’
‘None’ he sniffed
‘What! You took all four of them out!’ It surprised, me the most the idiots done before is two. In one go that is, oh and not to mention 8 of his unlucky, but still happy, band of recently mutilated friends. He nodded slowly his eyes filling up with tears. Oh god I see a scene coming. Please don’t let anyone see this dummy with me.
‘Will you be my sidekick? come on the agency won’t give me anymore they say that I am ruining their insurance premiums. Please. Please. Pleeeassseee’ He grabbed my legs and started to cry hysterically.
‘No.’ ‘Get off’. ‘Oh, come on …eugh… ewww. stop wiping your nose on my cape. Ow! Come on let go I can hear my legs breaking’
‘Please’ he whimpered looking up at me with puppy dog eyes while still hold my legs WAY too tight. Its so embarrassing seeing the great lummox cry.
‘No, no NO!….. Oh, come on get off already, I said no. As much as I want a tan I rather get it in a none certain death way. Look I’ll do a deal you get off and stop your blubbering and I’ll think about it.’ Lying is a very important villain survival skill.
‘You mean, it you truly mean it?’ he sniffed
‘Yes, just let go, your cutting off the blood to my legs’ Note children the use of Crossed figures behind back. Very useful skill, which can get you out of a lot of trouble.
‘Put me down, hey, HEY! Put me down’ Crash, crack. Dam there goes another two ribs thanks god I took out life insurance ‘Gently’.
Walking back to my lair with this idiot by my side going on about codes of superhero conduct telling a rather uninterested me all about the ‘do’s and don’ts’ of the superhero handbook and how nice I have been. NICE! How dare he use that word in my presence? Anyway, I tell you its amazing how he and his gang save the world, honestly everyone thinks they’re so great because they have rippleling muscles, handsome good looks, superpowers and well everything that I don’t have. What they don’t understand is, that’s all making up for the fact that they have VERY little up top in the brains department. I mean come on name me one genius that wears his underpants over TIGHTS. How can any of the magazines call that a ‘fashion statement’ or say it’s ‘a sign of a true artist.’ The truth is he can’t dress himself that despite having all those powers he still manages to walk into the wrong wardrobe everyday.
The real heroes aren’t those guys with the perfect teeth that stare at you grinning madly on the cover of a magazine flexing their massive muscles telling how they thwarted the latest evildoers plans. The true heroes are the pathetic excuse for company that tags along. The sidekicks. They do all the hard work so the Hero can reap all the benefits but the part I don’t understand is THEY LIKE IT! Why would anyone enjoy a sack full of brainless muscle taking all the credit while they get fried by their pal in the cross fire I don’t know.
I finally get rid of the muscle head, thanks to some fire in Peru, earthquake in America and a publicity shoot for Hello magazine entitled ‘What’s Inside the Brawn?’. Answer: nothing. There you go, an award-winning article that’s worth millions maybe even billions despite it being only two words. Sitting down again in the smoking remains I just sit and stare into the abyss.
I can’t sulk for the rest of my life, not because its embarrassing watching a grown man cry but because my butts getting numb sitting on these bricks. My mother is right I will be a failure and a waste of space. I Need to sort myself out. I need to make an amazing comeback, which every aspiring villain can look up to. I could be more famous than….than…. what was that guy at the meetings name is? Ah who cares I’ll be bigger than him. I’ll ruin the reputations of politicians, lawyers and journalists so everyone thinks that they are lying, dishonourable members of society! Just think of all the possibilities that would create! I could corrupt the world! HAHAHAHA! Nah. What I would like to be, really, is an animal sanctuary owner. I would just love looking after fluffy bunnies, cute little puppies and not forgetting sweet tiny kittens with little pink noses.
So there you go. Once the hero rides off into the sunset mates and girlfriend in hand this is what they leave behind them. Not just billions of pounds worth of damage to public property where they get carried away, but me, us, the nemesis, villains, bad guys what ever you want to call us. We are left to pick ourselves up and to repair the damage all to carry on with the job some of us never really ask for. Just as somebody has to clean up the sewers, somebody has to have the job of letting the ‘good guys’ and ‘heroes’ win. All to keep the masses happy. See with out us there wouldn’t be anyone for children to look up to and to admire, there would be no entertainment, life would be dull and boring . So just before you start cheering on your favourite heroes stop and pause for the moment to say a small thanks to the poor guys who are about to spend the next six months in a coma.