In Shining Armor

It is well known that women often dream of a knight in shining armor to 'rescue' them, either from a distressing event or from the dreary drudgery of every day life.

What isn't as well known is that these women technically are dreaming to be saved by Gordon the Gallant, who was handsome, brave, and dashingly demented. It was from upon his shimmering white steed, himself donned in shining armor, and holding a sword and shield which bore his family coat of arms -- consisting of a rose, sword, horse's head and gauntlet -- that he crusaded about the land, a one man reign of terror. Make no mistake, Gordon the Gallant was a colossal prick.

Gordon was gifted at both swordplay and archery, two skills which he honed daily on unsuspecting men, women and children throughout the country side. Those who lived to tell the tale told it incorrectly, complaining that the murders were committed by bandits and highwaymen. Then who should come striding into town on a gleaming horse but one Gordon the Gallant, his armor spotless and his demeanor innocent but stern.

What often happened next would be that the townsfolk would charge Gordon with locating and bringing the bandits to justice, a request that would bring rewards of food, whatever money the town could afford, wine and women. Gordon would then trot off into the local countryside, splash some blood about his spotless armor and his sword and shield (often the blood of those he earlier massacred), wait a couple of hours, then return to town before sunset with triumphant news of success. Gordon would make sure that the villagers never made light of their promises to reward him, feasting on the finest delicacies the village had to offer, draining the often meager treasury, consuming wine or mead wantonly and for dessert, would have his way with several women at once. Sometimes twice.

After all was said and done, and depending on his mood at the time, Gordon would wake up in the morning and set the village on fire. Yes, there's no doubt about it; Gordon the Gallant was a massive jackass.

But damn was he dashing.

It's Another Epiphany

It was at that very moment as Michael bit into his turkey sandwich that he felt stirring deep within him an epiphany of the likes he had never known before. He began chewing as an afterthought, and mustard oozed from the bread and plopped onto his sky-blue polo shirt into an interestingly-shaped glob. He had to think about this. Yes, it would change the very course of his life. No, the course of history! People would sing praise of him and sing songs about him for years to come!

Michael's appetite left him, having been replaced with thoughts of changing the world and the inevitable Michael-worship that would follow. He placed the hardly half-eaten sandwich back into its Styrofoam container and steepled his fingers in front of his pale and skinny face, enjoying the daydream. But he would make it a reality, he thought. A reality that he will create!

All from a simple sound-bite! Yes, the epiphany he felt surge through him was not so much an idea, but a saying that would spark ideas, change and revolution. Michael enjoyed further fancies that after he came out, he wouldn't even have to do much work. No, he would say what needs to be said and other people would do the work, while he would get the attention and worship.

He would have to test it first. See how it works, maybe refine it. Michael positioned himself in his chair to leap at any hapless co-worker that should happen to pass by. Coil back and wait.

Soon enough, Kimberly, a girl he knew to be quite politically active strut by, carrying with her several binders full of reports and other surely critical office documents. She gave a polite nod to Michael before he burst out in front of her, causing her to shriek and drop binders everywhere, spilling the contents all around the "Cube-Hell" cubicle hallway.

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" She yelled with rage in her voice caused by deadlines, stress and weird coworkers.

"I think we've gone from 'what can you do for your country' to 'what can your country do for you!'" Michael said in a not quite booming voice, his hands on his hips and his skinny chest inflated as much as possible.

Kimberly raised an eyebrow and looked at Michael as if he were from another planet. A Martian with pale, pasty features and short red hair.

"You've got mustard on your shirt, she said indignantly, before collecting her scattered reports and making a hasty getaway.

It was then that Michael knew he was gay.

It's Another Good Cause

"I see. Thank you for your call," Tommy meekly said over the phone, wincing as the sharp voice ranted on the other end of the line.

"Another one?" Asked Joey from the table across, who was watching Tommy's struggle.

"Yeah," said Tommy, taking his headset off. "i don't knwo if I can take much more of this. I mean, I think we've only raised like twenty-five dollars so far."

Tommy and Joey were the only people left manning the phones for their telethon. The last of the other seven volunteers had left two hours ago, having gotten fed up with ten prank calls in a row. Most of the flourescent lights had been turned off in the grey-tiled cafeteria room that they were renting for the event, save for the two or three lights right aove Tommy and Joey's respective tables. The camera that was broadcasting the telethon over a paid access channel had been turned off and abandoned.

Tommy rose from his eat and walked in a sad-sack manner over towards the camera, which he fiddled with in boredom. Joey, meanwhile, leaned back in his fold-up chair and placed his feet upon his table, all the while stroking his greasy and unkempt goatee which poorly masked his two extra chins.

"I just don't get it," said Tommy, standing underneath the Support NAMBLA First Annual Telethon banner, "I mean, we've been at this for ten hours and all we've been getting are prank calls and death threats."

"Yeah," chimed in Joey. "You'd think people would know a good cause when they see it."