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After one full day now of saving countless guests from minor injuries and slightly inconvenient situations, Coaster Bozo held his round head in his hands, sobbing relentlessly into his opened laptop that rested upon the meeting room table.
“They all hate me…”
The sixteen board members gathered in the room surrounded their boss with concerned looks and weary posture.
“Whaddya talkin’ about? Yous’ gettin’ more press than ya ever have, boss!” The Bostonian contributor encouraged.
“I’ll admit it’s too soon to tell whether or not this is drawing people to the park or not…” the reasonable one added in her usual level-headed tone. “But we’re seeing a strange increase in guests ever since this morning. Your work seems to be paying off already, Mr. Bozo. It’s gonna be fine.”
“For what? It’s no use… I don’t wanna be a meme… I wanna be a hero!”
“YOU ARE A HERO, BOSS!” The outspoken little brother of the team burst a tad too close to his ear.
“If this keeps up, we should see increases in comic sales either way.” The nerdy one argued. “The character has re-entered the public consciousness.”
“Come on… who cares how you make it there, you’re still climbing the ladder! Isn’t that what you always taught us? You keep this up, and the fat stacks’ll come rolling right in, I’m sure. So give it a damn rest already.” The rude one then butted in.
“I don’t care about the “fat” “stacks…” and I don’t care about the ladder! It’s simple… so simple… I want… to be a hero, like I said.”
“Boss…” the attractive one entered, drawing everyone’s attention. “Why is that? Why… should being a real hero matter so much to you?”
Coaster sat inside himself, unbottling a memory as he read the letters on his laptop keyboard.
“I was… a kid too, once.”
To him, he was still sitting in front of a turned-off TV reading cheaply-printed issues of dozens of ongoing series, imaging the impossible day where he’d wake up to be inside of one.
“Formed my entire identity off those characters… made them my reason for living. You know… why I took over this brand? Spent everything my dad left me to buy it out? Because… it wasn’t fun anymore. This name was dying. Boring comics. Uninspiring stories. They were getting it all wrong! I had to be the one to fix it. I was one of them. A fan, just like all the people mocking me! And now… I’ve become their enemy. I don’t want that. I want… to be a hero.”
Everyone on the team collectively gave a glance to each other, out of some kind of courtesy. As if to say, “Okay, I guess we’re doing this.”
“Then… sir, we just have to keep moving along then.” The shy one spoke for them all. “Same plan… same tactics. All there is to do… is hope. And maybe… if you try real hard, one day… they’ll come to appreciate your efforts. I’m sure they will.
“Yeah… I hope so.” Bozo sniffled, then humbly laughed. “Heheh. I’ll get back out there soon. I just wish, Y’know… if only there were some actual bad guys to fight.”
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