Chapter 1

The image that we have of a hero is of a muscle-bound man who can carry three victims in one arm while firing a machine gun with the other. The word hero makes us think of a man with a strong chin, chiseled features, and steely eyes. Sure, some heroes are the big strong manly types such as described in stories and portrayed in movies. Of course, we also think that heroines are attractive hard-body types who have studied martial arts their whole lives. From the media presentation of heroic figures, one would think that it would be easy to spot heroes and heroines walking down the street.

The reality is that heroes and heroines come in all shapes and sizes. There are heroes who are short and wiry, others who are big and tall, and still some who are of average build. Some heroes are bald. There are heroines who are plain looking and even a few who are just plain ugly. Believe it or not, some heroes and heroines have pot-bellies. Heroism isn’t a physical characteristic.

Despite our expectations to the contrary, heroes and heroines do not always act like heroic figures. The man who staggers out of a bar drunk as a skunk may be a hero. The unmarried woman yelling at the two kids hanging off the shopping cart in the middle of the discount store may be a heroine. That doesn’t mean that they haven’t done something heroic in the past or that it prevents them from doing something in the future.

Heroes and heroines are people first and foremost. They face the same problems of life as everyone else. They aren’t exempt from adversity. They have bad moods, bad habits, and bad days. There is not a special power that makes a hero or heroine different from everyone else. They are not comic book characters with costumes and super powers.

A hero does the right thing at the right time. A hero acts when it really counts. He walks into the middle of chaos and emerges having saved others. They might be terrified during the entire ordeal, but they still do the right thing. That is the true nature of heroism.

The heroic act is not flashy. There are no great scenes before the act in which the hero gives a speech about doing the right thing. There isn’t a sound track that plays in the background. When things go crazy, the hero walks into the middle of that chaos and, using knowledge that is available to everyone, saves someone else.

Some may consider this to be a disappointing vision of heroism. The idea of plain people doing one thing right just doesn’t seem to have the glamour of the Hollywood image. Rather than view this image with dismay, one should see it as a hopeful vision. It means that each of us could one day be the hero of our imagination.

Take a moment to look in a mirror. The face reflected back could be the face of a hero or heroine. It is much easier to prepare to be a hero than one might think. Learn CPR, first aid, how to use a fire extinguisher, or how to jump start a car. That little piece of knowledge could be the difference between being a hero and being a bystander. It is not that difficult; with just a little effort everyone can have the potential to be a hero.

Oscar strode towards the Carter Glade at a few minutes before noon on Midsummer’s day. Birds flitted from branch to branch. Butterflies filled the air with bright splashes of color that contrasted with the deep greens of leaves, the dull grayish bark of the oaks, and the blue sky above.

As he stepped into the glade, the air around him shimmered and he was transported to a path that passed through the woods. There were flowers blooming, birds singing, and young animals learning the rules of life from their parents. The contrast was a matter of degree than difference.

A naked fat man, leaning against a tree, was waiting for him. He stepped away from the tree to look at Oscar with approval in his eyes. His rolls of fat shook with each move and breath. Looking over at Oscar, he said, “You have come. That is good.”

The fat man waved a hand, his fat fingers shaped like sausages, in a follow me gesture. He turned and strode down the path. His ass jiggled in an obscene manner as he walked. Oscar followed, afraid of what would happen to him when they reached their destination.

They came to a meadow and the fat man turned to face Oscar. He asked, “Will you serve us by doing a service to the other Gods?”

Oscar answered, “I shall serve you in what ever manner you ask.”

The man’s features turned feminine. Oscar looked down and noticed that the cock had disappeared and had been replaced by a very oversized vagina. He could have put a fist in it with room to spare. The woman asked, “What if it means your death?”

“If it serves you, then my life is yours to do with as you need.”

The woman stepped forward and hugged him to her. The pendulous breasts, fat and huge beyond beauty, nearly suffocated him. He hugged back, not knowing anything better to do. There was a touch of sadness in her embrace. The fat woman said, “You have done well.”

Oscar stood there facing her, not understanding what was happening. She kissed him. His body reacted and he kissed her back. Her mouth opened and her tongue forced its way into his mouth. Her arms encircled him as her tongue probed deeper and deeper. He felt like gagging when her tongue entered his throat -- blocking his windpipe and making it impossible for him to breathe. Her tongue probed deeper, entering his lungs. The urge to cough ripped through his upper body, but his chest didn’t work right.

He started to struggle, but her grasp was too tight. The world around him started to dim, his knees weakened, and his fingers went numb. Struggling to remain conscious, he tried to bite or do anything that would cause her to stop this kiss. The world slowly faded to black as he thought that this must be what it was like to die. In his oxygen deprived mind, the idea of being killed by a kiss seemed humorous. It was too bad that he couldn’t laugh.

Oscar awoke lying on the ground. The world was fuzzy and he had a headache that slowly cleared. His lungs burned and his throat was raw. He sat up and took a deep breath. The world slowly spun, but the spinning stopped after a moment. The fat man slowly came into focus. He stared up at him.

The fat man looked down at Oscar and asked, “Will you accept William’s ability to see the future?”

“I will not take anything that is not offered willingly,” Oscar answered believing that the loss of William’s talent would destroy his friend.

“He knows that you need it and he offers it willingly,” the fat man said.

“He will need it for his service,” Oscar said.

“You need it for your service, Oscar. His service will not begin until yours ends,” the fat man answered.

“I will accept it,” Oscar said. The words were barely out of his mouth before the Two-Sided One had spun him around. He felt a hard point pressing against his rectum for just a second before the Two-Sided One thrust into him. He screamed as his rectum stretched. It felt as if his head was about to burst. He lost consciousness.

When Oscar opened his eyes, the fat man was holding a gold medallion. The light from the sun reflected off it as it spun in the breeze. It was the prettiest thing Oscar had ever seen and he longed for it around his neck. As if reading his mind, the Two-Sided One placed it around Oscar’s neck. The weight of the medallion was heavy and pressed against his chest. His hand went to it and fondled it.

The fat man stepped away by taking three steps backwards. The God appeared by stepping out from behind the fat man. A woman’s figure shimmered in the air and solidified on the other side of the fat man. It was the Goddess. Oscar’s eyes got wide at seeing the three of them together. The Two-Sided one shifted into male and female joined by their hands. Arrayed before him were the Gods and Goddesses. The sight took his breath away.

The God said, “Oscar, you have done well in the war against terrorists.”

The Two-Sided One said, “However, the war as it is being fought does not solve the underlying problem.”

The Goddess said, “If the underlying problem is not solved, then all life on this planet shall disappear.”

The God said, “The worshippers of three other Gods have forgotten their Gods and now make war on each other in the name of their Gods.”

The Goddess said, “Their worshippers have fragmented into cults and the Gods can not favor one cult over another because none of them are completely correct.”

The Two-Sided One said, “The other Gods are angry. They need an outsider to set things right.”

The God said, “The extremists know you and respect your strength as a warrior.”

The Two-sided One said, “You have all the tools needed to succeed.”

The Goddess said, “We have chosen you to be the outsider that sets things right.”

The Two-Sided One said, “This is dangerous. People are more protective of their religion than their lives.”

The God said, “You shall have to go unarmed except for a knife.”

Oscar asked, “Unarmed?”

The Two-Side One said, “You can still choose not to do this.”

Oscar answered, “My life is yours. I shall serve you as you ask.”

The Two-Sided One said, “Go forth and seek the houses of Yahweh, Jehovah, and Allah in the lands of their birth. Knock upon the doors that glow and ask for entrance. They who dwell within shall talk to you.”

The God commanded, “Now rest, you have much to do.”

The Goddess hugged him. His body was suffused with loving warmth. As he fell asleep, he heard her say something but lost track of what she was saying. “Do not worry, there shall be no...”

Oscar woke in the middle of the Carter’s Glade taking comfort from the weight of the medallion around his neck. He sat up and looked at the medallion. There were two circular plates fused along a single side. There were pictures of the male and female organs on the two full medallions respectively. There was a third of a circular plate below the two discs fused to them along its edge. The third piece was blank of picture. There was no writing on either side of the medallion.

He stood and walked to the Druid College knowing what was going to happen. William’s foresight guided his steps. Catherine was standing outside waiting for him. She approached as he made his way to the door. He stopped and nodded to her. In a worried voice, she said, “You were gone a week.”

In a deep rolling voice that sent chills down her spine, he replied, “It did not feel that long, Catherine.”

Catherine starred at him for a moment realizing that his medallion had three parts rather than the two she had expected. Wide-eyed, she handed him the staff that she had fashioned. She said, “This is yours. I have gray robes for you, but I shall get the brown robes.”

Oscar examined the staff. It was styled in the fashion of a shepherd’s staff with a hook on the end. It was the same height as him. The weight and heft of the staff felt right in his hand. Little designs were carved along its length. He turned to her and said, “Thank you, but the gray robes are the correct robes. This is perfect. You have served the God well.”

Catherine found herself getting sexually excited just listening to him talk. She said, “Wow. You have a voice. Better put a damper on it or I’ll be all over you.”

They went into the Druid College together. When they reached the building, Georgia came running to him. He saw her and, spreading his arms wide, said, “My love. I hope you weren’t worried.”

Georgia couldn’t believe her ears. His voice had tickled every nerve in her body. She felt like she could come just by listening to him. She threw herself into his arms, gently crying in relief that he had returned. She had understood that he might be gone for as many as three or four days, but an entire week was beyond anyone’s expectations. Once she recovered her composure, she said, “Oh, I like your voice.”