#a parable

Rick Sanchez stumbled in2 the bar and took a seat at the counter. "Give me your strongest alcohol," he grumbled 2 the bartender.

The bartender raised his eyebrows in concern. "Are you sure, Rick? This is your fifth night in a row."

"Did I stutter?" Rick said (without a stutter).

The bartender shrugged. "The customer's always right," he said and poured Rick the bar's most alcoholic alcohol.

Rick drank it all in one gulp and slid the empty glass back across the counter. The bartender filled it up. Rick took a sip and sighed. "Is this world even worth living in anymore?" he asked.

"Tell me about it," came a voice to his left. Rick turned and saw a boy with bleach-white skin and jet-black hair. His face was covered in burn scars. There was something enigmatic about his presence, something that intrigued Rick.

"Aren't you a little young 2 be here?" Rick quipped.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Young? Maybe in years, but I've lived a thousand lifetimes."

"Amen," Rick said. He waved the bartender over. "Hey bartender, a drink of your strongest alcohol for this young man right here. On me."

The bartender obliged, and the boy drank his liquor.

"What'd you say your name was?" Rick Sanchez asked.

“But I’ve done everything right,” the hero protested. “Why can’t I win?” 

“Because,” said the sage of the forest with the white-lidded eyes, taking a drag from its slender pipe.  “Because what?” “Because someone before you has done everything wrong.” 

“Then I’ll fix it. I’ll fix what they did wrong. I’ll do it right.”  “Of course you will, and you won’t win.”  “How is that?” “You can’t compete with a tragedy,” the sage shrugged, and let its gaze slide into the distance as the hero considered, taking another drag and easing the smoke out slowly, watching it mingle with the forest mist.  “So that’s how you do it, then.”

“Hmm?” The sage looked back.  “That’s how you win.” The hero spoke now with a cold resolve. “I’ll make a tragedy. I don’t care about being good. I’ll do everything wrong.”

“Of course you will,” said the sage, blinking its heavy lids. “And you won’t win.” “Why?” The hero snapped, grabbed the sage by its scrawny neck. “This villain, what makes you think their tragedy more potent than the one I’ll make? How did they do it? Tell me! How did they win?”

“Win?” croaked the sage, hardly sounding very alarmed. "Who said anything about winning?” “You did!” The villain threw the creature back, spat in its face. "You said I can’t compete with a tragedy! You said they did everything wrong! That’s how they won.” “But they didn’t.” “Well who did then? A ghost? Tell me!”

Elio Italian form of AELIUS or HELIOS, the Sun God. Elio is the Sun. He is the much-needed bright spot in Oliver’s life.

Oliver In English the meaning of the name is the Olive tree. The biblical olive tree symbolizes fruitfulness and beauty and dignity. ‘Extending an olive branch’ signifies an offer of peace.