Thursday, December 06, 2007

Whoso removeth this clog is the rightful king

There is a great desire in many people to be heroes. The popularity of everything from comic books to John Wayne movies to video games testifies to this fact. Seeking heroic satisfaction by pretending to do undertakings of epic proportion also shows that people don’t think they can reach the level of Champion of the Human Race in real life. I beg to differ. Just two weeks ago I lived the hero quest story and still got to watch most of the Kansas – Missouri game on television.
The story of the hero quest is ancient and there are very specific steps which describe the process. Step One: The Call to Adventure. In the great stories this is often represented by a terrifying herald of doom. In my case it was simply my wife. No, that is not some cheap wife joke. She was simply the person to call my attention to the quest at hand. She told me the sink was clogged. Scoff if you want to, but with a true dearth of minotaurs and women sporting garter snake hairdos in the world, a clogged sink is about as good as I get.
Step Two: Refusal of the Call. Often the hero is so set in his ways he does not heed the call or refuses to step up to the challenge. I was no different. I ignored the problem. This is the typical man’s first action whenever there is a problem. The baby is crying. The man: she’ll go back to sleep. The wife is mad. The man: she’ll get over it. A man’s body is covered with weeping sores and his left arm has fallen off. The man: Who needs a doctor? I’ll be okay.
When I finally answered the call I went to simple answers. I plungered, which just moved water around, much of which ended up on the floor. Next I used highly caustic will-eat-the-through-anything-even-molecular-bonds fluid. You think I’m joking. Well, it proceeded to eat through the basket in the drain of the sink. This got the water to drain out of the basin, but it went into the cabinet underneath and then flowed out onto the floor of the kitchen.
The real adventure begins when the hero crosses over the first threshold. For me this was when I let a stream of less than happy words flow out of my mouth like the water flowing onto the floor. This was the point of no return. The hero is forced to face the problem and wade into battle. I was forced to face the problem and wade into the kitchen. Sorry, too many fluid puns.
Every great hero has his mentor who gives him special knowledge or tools to meet the challenge. Perseus was given a special shield by Athena. King Arthur had Merlin. Glooscap was given a magical bag by Grandmother Woodchuck. (I did not make that up…look it up.) I was no different. Like Luke Skywalker I had a teacher. Mine was Obi-War-Ren.
Okay, his name is actually just Warren. He is a friend who knows all those things which make someone actually useful. As opposed to someone who can tell you about the great Wabanaki hero Glooscap and how Grandmother Woodchuck plucked the hairs from her belly to make a magical bag. I know it is hard to believe that understanding plumbing would be more useful than that, but just look at the bill for a plumber and then think about how much you paid to read this.
Warren was my guide through the Road of Trials encountered by heroes. He knew how to navigate the vast Terra Incognito of the hardware store. He showed me such arcane weapons as plumber’s putty, traps, and drain baskets. He explained the mysteries of water pressure. He let me do actual labor instead of just having me hold tools and barking at me to point the flashlight in the right spot.
Next in the hero quest is the apotheosis. This is when the hero’s ego is disintegrated in a breakthrough of consciousness. He then takes his “ultimate boon” back to his home. After all this the hero is now a master of two worlds, both the divine and the human.
With Warren’s help on my hero quest I am now the master of two worlds. I can write a column containing such words as apotheosis, woodchuck and weeping sores as well as get the potato skins out of the u-bend using a drain auger and a screw driver. I am no longer impressed by Hercules.

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