The Ingenious One

A Study in Confidence

Bulbs flashed and cameras rolled.  Journalists jockeyed for position, thrusting their microphones forward into the thronging mass.  At the epicenter stood a stoic gentleman dressed in black, ignoring both the human storm around him and the snowstorm rumbling overhead.  “Returned,” he started, “returned.  I win because I am.”  One reporter’s voice rose above the cacophony, “Do you regret leaving your team in the lurch?  Surely their league position is cause for concern.”  The man looked the female reporter over with hungry eyes, “What is your name?”  “Andrea,” she answered confidently.  “Not only will I win this paltry league and usurp the The Duo’s position of ingratitude, but I also will show you much pleasure this evening.  Next question?”  A tall-lanky man with black rimmed glasses spoke up from the outer edges of the crowd, “First, just let me state, I’m a huge fan.  It’s an honor to be here.  Second, do you really think you have a chance?”  The Ingenious One responded, “I know you Greyhound.  You cannot hide from me.  The idol worship is welcomed, but overconfidence has never been a difficult thing for me.”  He paused, turning his head skyward.  “Do you see this snow, tumbling down even now around us?”  The Greyhound looked from side-to-side, self-conscious and uncomfortable.  “Yes,” he said.  “Ah, well, you see,” the Ingenious One began, “one minuscule flake is no cause for concern, but when many flakes gather they create snowmen, many, many snowmen—an army of snowmen, in fact.  These snowmen, they are not friendly, to you or to anyone else.  But they are my minions and will crush you with a snow like frenzy unfamiliar to your inbred self.  Yes, Greyhound, these are my snowmen.  They are coming for you,” the Ingenious One turned towards Andrea and, winking, said, “and you too, but in a different way.” Her cheeks were ablaze, a velvety sapphire the color of Kool-Aid poured out over virgin snow.  “I’m not following you,” the Greyhound interrupted.  By now the jumbled mass of reporters and cameramen and women had quieted to a dull murmuring.  The crowd had split and in the middle stood the two managers.  “No, you wouldn’t, would you?”  The Ingenious One smiled, “I am coming for you and The Duo, too.”  He snapped his fingers, “Andrea, to me!”  The Ingenious One walked through the parting crowd, like Moses marching through the Red Sea.


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