Once upon a time there was a young man who felt he was a prince who had, somehow been cheated out of his royal title. He was also sure he was working in a position far below his potential. This guy had a great personality, one at least as charming as the heartbreak of psoriasis. He was not born with this personality, but rather, had to work at it diligently for twenty-some years. He was well-loved by his co-wrokers, for they all called him A.H. which he knew had to mean "awesome hero."

One day the chance he so richly deserved came his way; a chance for a promotion, but he would have to transfer to a far-distant city, some twenty miles away. Luck was with him, for everyone in the far distant city who was qualified for the job (at least on paper) had turned down the job, probably because they knew they were not of awesome hero caliber and being one of these was a big asset to the position.

He knew too, that being an awesome hero would give him a good shot at further promotions, for he had noticed that many, if not all, of those in higher positions were often called a.h. He knew, though most of those in higher positions were awesome heroes, not all awesome heroes receive promotions. Perhaps, if his luck kept up, on of his superiors who was an ever bigger and more awesome hero would notice him and recognize his potential to be an a.h. and promote him so he could be a big a.h. but in the meantime, he would strive, at his present level, to be as big an a.h. as he possibly could.

When he came on the job, he found most of his "inferiors" were truly what could only be called inferior. He developed the perfect plan. Every time his inferiors did something unbecoming an a.h. he would write a memo to his superiors. This endeared him to his superiors, for they had known he was an a.h. but this made him an even bigger a.h. to them.

The moral of this story is, If you can't be the biggest awesome hero, at least be the biggest a.h. you can. Everyone will love you for it. Your inferiors will love you, for it will create a great morale and each one will want to be an a.h. Your superior will love you, for what boss wouldn't want his entire work force to be a big bunch of a.h.'s

The real moral of this story is...hell, this story ain't got no moral,

Epilogue

It was a dark and stormy night when A.H. went to the County Fair. As he passed a fortune teller's booth, she asked if he wanted his hand read. A.H. told her he liked his hand perfectly well the color it was. Anyway, he let her read his hand, and as she gazed into his lifeline, she was startled. "I see in your lifeline, many. many years you'll be a perfect a.h. I also see before your retirement, many will be calling you s.o.b. and it should be a comfort to know, although you have reached the autumn of life, so many people will think of you as a sweet ole boy."