If experience has taught me anything, it’s that it’s best to run in the opposite direction whenever Carolyn Fitz or Susan Argo come up to me with a look of an anticipated conversation in their eyes.
See, discussions with these two usually center around me spending money on something, the awe-inducing swell of my belly or something they really, really want to get in the paper. As nice and intelligent as both these ladies admittedly are, conversations with either of them usually wind up with me curled up in the fetal position, twitching in spasms as I suck my thumb.
This being said, you could certainly understand my trepidation when Fitz came into my office Tuesday night with a gleeful look splayed across her mug.
“Oh, I have the coolest thing to tell you,” said Fitz, as I shakily reached for the bottle of Tums. “There’s a Web site where you can have an action figure made of yourself.”
If there’s one thing I truly love in this world, it’s myself. To be honest, it’s not even really a healthy love affair I have with the dashing bald editor of the Coastal Point, it’s an outright love fest — bordering on stalking, if I could figure out a way to climb a tree and take pictures of myself while I sleep. To say I have issues with my ego would imply that it is something I could work through. I can’t.
I just happen to think I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread. If you don’t believe me, ask my mommy. She’ll tell you how wonderful I am. She’s always hammered it in to me that I’m smart and handsome, and that all those hundreds of people made fun of me simply because they were jealous and ...
But I digress.
My dread over talking to one of the FitzArgo twins was quickly washed away as I pondered a world where an action figure of me would exist. To make matters worse, Fitz told me they could put in a microchip with me talking. Imagine that — kids from around the world would huddle around each other on the playground to hear me say, “But I digress,” or “The name’s McCann, not McCan’t,” or, “There is no visible sign that says I have to wear pants on this bus, sir.”
Let the good times roll.
Once Fitz left my office, I scurried back to my desk and found herobuilders.com — and there it was. For a mere $500 I could get one action figure of myself. But wait, there’s more.
I could also add a cell phone for my action figure for an additional $3.95. And, according to the Web site, I could add a drill for $7.95 and something called a “Dual Headed Ax” for $4.95. Now, I’m not exactly sure what that is, but it sounds so “me.”
Oh, this is such a good idea.
Playing around on the Web site a little more, I found that I could dress Li’l Darin just like me. Yes, khaki pants and golf shirts would adorn the little fella, and I could have custom-made shoes fitted for his little feet.
Kids are going to eat this up, I thought to myself while continuing my search through herobuilders.com.
Suddenly, sadness created a void in my heart. I realized there could be no Sam Harvey action figure, because the guy was no longer with The Point. Man, that could have been such a cool action figure. It would harrass state and local officials on the phone and charm women — and, at 12 inches tall, it would have been just about life-sized.
I started thinking about a little Susan Lyons figurine instead, but I couldn’t find yard sale attachments and the volume level only goes so high on these things. Reality would have been tossed out the window.
Bob Bertram? Nah, the purse accessories don’t really mesh well with the “action figure” look.
How about the FitzArgo twins? No, the microchip doesn’t have enough space to fit all their talking.
Our new graphic artist, Jaime Ellis? Possible. But, no, we don’t do anything nice for newbies. Especially that one.
Well, it was back to me.
Armed with a renewed vigor for my quest, I scrolled through more accessories for myself. I could get a podium for $24.95 so Li’l Darin could deliver stirring speeches to children, and a shotgun for $7.95, so I could, well, I’m not exactly sure what I’d do with that — unless we made an action figure of Shaun Lambert.
Oh, yeah. This is such a good idea.
And I’d only have to charge about $700 apiece to make a profit.