[ WP ] A story where the protagonist is a pretty decent individual by most accounts , but is DESPISED by the narrator .


 “ I remember the day that little worm was born. “ I exhaled the smoke that had been in my lungs. I sat behind the windscreen drinking my coffee and smoking and thinking about what boring, tedious day it was going to be. Of all the people I had to be the narrator for… 
 
 “ Come on Cosgrove, we do this everyday. It ’ s nothing new. “ I looked through the double paned soundproof glass and tapped my headphones to make seem like I hadn ’ t heard the voice of Silas come through my headsets. Angels and Demons, see here ’ s how it works, sometimes we get assigned to the earthlings for the most mundane things. They get multiples of us. Yeah, sure, everyone ’ s familiar with Guardian Angels. But did you know, that sometimes there are those of us who get called into be scribes or narrators for your lives? Let me tell you, up here or down there, you guys that live in the middle your stories are, well, you can ’ t make this up. Earthbound celebrities? Fugetaboutit. Those guys are nothing compared to say, little Johnny Sixpack or his Cousin Suzy Homemaker who live on the edge of sanity. I blame Metatron. Out of all the people I was assigned, I picked this little baby, who ended up being the second oldest of five. The others were about as nondescript as he was. Celebrities, out of all of the celebrities this one turned into, why oh why did he have to turn into who he turned into? 
 
 Now don ’ t get me wrong, this is a good gig, got ta have the right pipes for the job, but it also helps that the subject you ’ re writing or talking about has that certain…what ’ s that phrase you can only say in French? It escapes me, you monkeys and your colloquialisms. 
 
 I heard a tap on my headphones and I swore because it came through loud and clear. They must have slide the pot up in order to make their point. I looked up one of the producers was tapping his watch. “ Cosgrove, let ’ s go, we all have things we ’ d rather be doing. Not our fault you managed to pick the one kid from Massachusetts who was gon na blow up like he did. Could be worse, Markari got that little punk from Canada and look at that mess. ” 
 
 I shook my head and took another drag on my smoke. That ’ s true it could be worse. I don ’ t see how though. My guy, that little nugget looked like someone had taken the casing of a 10lb sausage and stuffed it with about 40 lbs of the wrong meat and shaped into this walking mass of crap. Don ’ t get me wrong, I ’ ve seen the way people react to his guy. You literally love to hate him. You want to see him fail and give up and get beaten down. Then when he does you have audacity to say he was screwed? Pick a side people. You ’ re either fallen or you ’ re not. He ’ s not the hero you deserve or need. He ’ s just a man a damned man. No matter what he ’ s the master of. 
 
 I exhale, drop my cigarette into the ashtray and start to dry read into the microphone. I clear my throat, I open my mouth and the words come out. “ In a world. ” I stop. Are we effing serious right now? I look up “ He ’ s already the most cliché celebrity ever, we ’ re gon na make the spot for his autobiography even more cliché? ” 
 
 I hear them all groan over my headset. I don ’ t know why, we don ’ t have to pay for studio time. Hell when your boss is the one who created everything nothing really matters. We are all on salary here. No overtime, no commission. One giant steady paycheck, so please keep up with your tithing. “ Cos, dude come on! I know it ’ s bad. Trust me, I edited the music that we are going to loop as a donut around your vocals. You want to hear it? 
 
 Before I could say “ No. ” It was piped through my head. The electronic drum beat, the stupid late 80 ’ s-early 90 ’ s synth music and that weirdly deep voice coming from someone who looked like The boss was a huge fan of Howdy Doody and decided we needed a human version of that running around. 
 
 “ Never gon na give you up 
 Never gon na let you down 
 Never gon na run around and desert you 
 Never gon na make you cry 
 Never gon na say goodbye 
 Never gon na tell a lie and hurt you ” 
 
 I rolled my eyes. It was fitting. This guy would love this song. If he only knew. My guy, let me tell you about my guy. Everyone loved and hated him. Women loved him, men wanted to be him. Hell you looked at his movies and you knew he was cool. I go back to what Clarence said about the King in “ True Romance ”. It ’ s a bit vulgar for me to repeat but if you ’ ve seen the movie then you get the point. Call him a boyscout or a streetsmart superman with super powers. My guy was everything someone loved or wanted to be. I should have been fine with that. But the problem with overly nice people is that you don ’ t trust them. You always feel like they ’ re hiding something. I ’ m a friggin Angel and I should know better. I know him almost as well as his Guardian Angel and Temptation Demon. 
 
 “ Cos, please. Just a quick read through. One Shot. You ’ re good at this. You ’ ve been narrating his life since he slid out of the birth canal. ” 
 I nod. “ Fine, but after we do the vocals for the spot can we get some lunch? I want to go to that deli in Brooklyn with with the Reuben. ” 
 
 I got the “ ok ” and “ thumbs up ” from two of the people in the control room and smiled. ” Damn. I can ’ t say I hate the guy, as Angel we ’ re not supposed to have an opinion either way. He just, grated on me, you know? I ’ d rather have a lemon juice rubbed in my eyes after having been given paper cuts on my corneas than have to talk about this guy any more. But hey it ’ s a job. 
 
 I took a swig of my coffee, leaned into the mic and started the longest minute and a half of my existence. “ In a world where every day choices can make you or break you. What happens when years of hard work and dedication finally take you where you ’ ve always dreamt of going? What happens when that long road to glory reaches the destination you ’ ve always thought was unattainable. Coming next March, one mans story will make you laugh, make you cheer, and make you cry. That journey isn ’ t for the weak willed or cold hearted. This may be entertainment and inspiring for some of you, but for one man, this was life. Born a man, he became a legend AND HIS NAME IS JOHN CENA! ”
