A/N* I CLAIM NOTHING! NOTHING I TELL YOU! Well, maybe the plot. But you can
have everything else, I promise...
Some men are born great, some men achieve greatness and some men have greatness thrust upon them. But that isn't really true, is it? No. It is true that there are three types of men, or for those who are sensitive about such things, three types of people. The third type is the extra. From the horses mouth, I give you Seamus Finnigan.
It must be nice to be an extra, they say, it must be nice not to have such responsibility. But who do you think cleans up after the hero after he rescuse the damsel? It isn't the sidekick, it's the extra. And we have to do a good job of cleaning up too, because hero's are super-human, and super- human's don't leave messes. And who writes down the hero's messages, informing him of dates and times? It is the extra, always the extra.
It must be nice to be an extra, they say, it must be nice not to worry about being recognised. But who do you think gets the first beating? It isn't the hero, it's the extra. And we have to get pummeled real good, too, because if you can defend yourself then why do you need a hero? The extra always takes the first punch, but he always has to point himself out on the screen, so everyone knows it's him. The extra takes the first tumble, but his name is never mentioned in the magazines that his mother reads. The extra never gets fanmail, he has to settle for reading the mail that the hero has discarded, hoping that perhaps his scene will be noted in the paragraphs of admiration.
It is in the darkness of the wings, where we observe from the shadows, where the real battles are fought. Behind the curtains we watch, and wait for our cue. Behind the curtains we are killed, our bloody bodies are laid beside the hero and he avenges our deaths.
But it doesn't matter. We are still dead.
Some men are born great, some men achieve greatness and some men have greatness thrust upon them. But that isn't really true, is it? No. It is true that there are three types of men, or for those who are sensitive about such things, three types of people. The third type is the extra. From the horses mouth, I give you Seamus Finnigan.
It must be nice to be an extra, they say, it must be nice not to have such responsibility. But who do you think cleans up after the hero after he rescuse the damsel? It isn't the sidekick, it's the extra. And we have to do a good job of cleaning up too, because hero's are super-human, and super- human's don't leave messes. And who writes down the hero's messages, informing him of dates and times? It is the extra, always the extra.
It must be nice to be an extra, they say, it must be nice not to worry about being recognised. But who do you think gets the first beating? It isn't the hero, it's the extra. And we have to get pummeled real good, too, because if you can defend yourself then why do you need a hero? The extra always takes the first punch, but he always has to point himself out on the screen, so everyone knows it's him. The extra takes the first tumble, but his name is never mentioned in the magazines that his mother reads. The extra never gets fanmail, he has to settle for reading the mail that the hero has discarded, hoping that perhaps his scene will be noted in the paragraphs of admiration.
It is in the darkness of the wings, where we observe from the shadows, where the real battles are fought. Behind the curtains we watch, and wait for our cue. Behind the curtains we are killed, our bloody bodies are laid beside the hero and he avenges our deaths.
But it doesn't matter. We are still dead.