One could almost hear a pin drop in the posh home. It seemed as if time stood still. The round head of the powerful man rose steadily like a floating M&M in zero gravity. His eyes widened in hope and his hands, fists clenched, above his head in premature triumph. There before him on the television was man’s great struggle of life and death played out in a sporting contest. His empire had threatened so many times to cave in on itself. His criticism and reputation trampled by the roadside like a sciurus carolinensis (squirrel). With a bitterweet smile he clicked off his TiVo and casually tossed the remote into his great leather chair. Standing before the window he saw the sun rising and felt his heart rise with it. All that he sought, respect, admiration, and validation, seemed to be just beneath it as it rose like a great phoenix. Today was Gary’s day.

He would finally achieve what every executive in America dreamed of. Drink in success through accidental happenstance, and not through educated business saavy. Now all eyes would focus their engrossment in his “frigid” direction. Now the fame and attention would be focused when the paper came later that morning. The headlines would tell of the brutal death of such a noble warrior. First tears, then shameful attention would be paid. Much like the driving force behind the interest in NASCAR, attention must be paid…just in case. Now the families would come. Children, wrapped from head to toe in catalog purchased scarves and wool caps, would bob happily on their fathers shoulders as he marched toward the arena crammed shoulder to shoulder with a good friend and his family. Hot dogs and beer salesman, sweat on their steaming faces, would be worked up into a frenzy at the sudden success that they now equally enjoyed. Mothers would kiss their daughters sweetly while waving banners and signs, having just completed their part in The Wave. Champagne would flow in the upper boxes as well and here Gary’s train of thought was broken.

His butler entered the room politely bringing him the morning paper, with the sports section already ferretted out, then shrinking out of the room with a noticeable haste. And as his eyes ran over the words and pictures of reassurance, he was suddenly crestfallen. Under impossible odds his "hero" had actually survived.

The attention would be brief and fleeting and then people would just go back to their American Idols, Dancing with the Stars and the NBA. Completely deflated Gary shrunk back into his great leather chair noting the pain in his rear as he crushed his TiVo remote. He tried to reminisce of better days like the time when he got his picture taken with his favorite rapper of all time. Looking to the window once again he couldn’t help but notice that while the sun was rising a rain cloud floated lazily in from the South. It looked as if it were going to be a rainy day after all. Gary couldn’t help but note the poetic irony that melted ice was rain in it’s purest form. Rubbing a hand across his globe like head he muttered, like a child of nine would, “I don’t like hockey anyway.”

Church.