Ordinary?

Once, there was a man. This man wasn't an extraordinary man. On the contrary, he was as ordinary and plain as you would imagine an ordinary man to be. Except ten times as ordinary. So, I guess, you could say he was extraordinarily ordinary.

His name was Bill and if that's not one of the most ordinary names for a man you've ever heard of, you're wrong. It is very ordinary. So ordinary, that it caused Bill at a young age to just give up on having anything but an ordinary life. Whoever heard of a millionaire named Bill? Whoever heard of an attractive celebrity or singer named Bill? Bills work in factories and offices, they don't fly to the moon or sign autographs. At around the age of 11, Bill had decided he was going to play it safe; go to basic college, get a basic degree, get a basic job, marry a basic wife, and have a basic life.

At around the age of 35, it seemed Bill had essentially gotten everything he wanted. He had graduated from the local community college, gotten his general studies on time, works at an insurance agency, has a wife named Anne, has two kids, Bob and Sam, and lives in a one story, white house on an acre of land in the middle of town. Nothing could be more ordinary except for having a mid-life crisis.

Now, if you've never experienced something like this before, let me break it down for you. You go freaking insane. All the things you put off and gave way to in the past? It's in your face. Your biological clock is ticking and what else to do? You gotta stop hitting the snooze button because you're going to be late. That alarm stopped giving a crap a long time ago and now you're panicking. Did I waste too much time? Did I not save enough time? Only one way to find out. Jump out of bed and start getting ready, it's about to get ugly.

For Bill, though, the start of it all was to get a handgun. What kind of man doesn't have a gun? He thinks back to his father and his gun cabinet, and how even his mother slept with a loaded .38 in her bedside table in case of an intruder. He was taught at a young age to handle guns of any size or caliber with the utmost respect and safety. He knew what he was doing, and planned on making sure his family did too. Before he left to go to the gun store, he left a note for his wife.

"Honey, today is the first day to the rest of my life, and later tonight you'll find out why. I love you."

He had left the note underneath her car keys, knowing she would see it. It was a Wednesday, and Bill had called in sick to purchase the gun and test fire it before he brought it home. Ya know, to get used to it and look more like a pro in front of his wife and children who look up to him to protect them. Calling in wasn't like Bill, and it had raised some suspicion. Not enough suspicion to cause anyone to do a home visit, but he was kept on his supervisor's mind for a majority of the day.

Bill had went down to the local gun store and purchased what he thought was a good choice, a brand new Beretta 9mm. The gun store owner showed him how to load it, unjam it, take it apart, and clean it. Bill loved this information because it made it that much easier to show off for his family when he gets home. He paid with a credit card, wrapped the gun in a bag, and headed towards the gun range that was a little ways out of town.

Bill was so excited, he couldn't wait until he got to the gun range to play with his new toy, he had to pull over and take it out of the bag. It was heavy and very, very shiny. Bill loved it. He had power. For once in his life, he had some wild, ruthless control over his overly-ordinary life. The feel wasn't right, though. It wasn't loaded. He had to fill the chamber with a bullet to get the feel right. He slid rounds into the clip like he was shown, loaded the clip, and cocked it.

The only thing extraordinary about Bill, that wasn't worth mentioning before and if you could even call it extraordinary, were his hands. His hands weren't exactly the strongest, and they weren't exactly the biggest. In fact, Bill had relatively small hands for a man. So small, in fact the gun didn't sit properly in his hand. The excitement had caused Bill's hands to get sweaty, and with a heavy gun in these tiny sweaty hands, is a recipe Bill wasn't ready to try out. He had lost his grip on the gun, causing him to drop it into his lap and instead of letting it drop only 8 inches, he flinched and grabbed at it. His strangely tiny thumb had grabbed the gun by the trigger and engaged the first bullet in the chamber.

Anne, his wife, was worried about the letter she had gotten, it wasn't like Bill to be so vague. She tried calling his office but they said he had called in and wouldn't say exactly what was wrong, just that he needed a day for himself. She went around their very small town to see where he might have gone. She checked the grocery store, the library, his favorite bar, she even went as far as checking the park, thinking he might be watching the birds or something. Trying to predict an ordinary and very predictable man should be easy, or so she thought. On her way back to her car, she saw the gun shop owner locking up.

"Oh, hello, Anne." He said

"Hi, Marvin, how are you?" She replied

"Ha ha, doing okay for my old age. Something bothering you?" He asked, somewhat concerned.

"I can't find Bill anywhere. He called into work and left me a note and it's not like him. You know Bill, he's not the type to do something like this!" She said, a little more flustered now.

"Oh..." He said. "I saw him earlier. He came into my shop and purchased a handgun, but you don't think he would have..." He trailed off.

"No, not Bill, surely not Bill. That wouldn't make sense! My husband isn't like that, I would have known by now if he had those types of thoughts." She said, with her voice starting to shake.

"Hey now, don't worry. I'm sure there's nothing peculiar going on. Look, whenever someone comes to buy a gun, typically their first instinct is to try it out. Why don't we drive you to the gun range, I'm sure he's there just trying out his new toy." He said, with a smile.

"I-I guess. That sounds okay." She said, sounding somewhat relieved, and hopeful.

They both got into her very ordinary car, and headed out of town to the gun range.

It was 8:00 PM when they found him. A couple of bikers driving down the road saw him first. Thought he might have had engine trouble and stopped to help him, only to find a bit of the driver all over the roof and backseat of the car. It was utterly disgusting, and quite a peculiar way to go. Not usual for an ordinary man to have this much extraordinary happenings in his life all at once. By the time his wife and the gun shop owner got to the stretch of road he was parked on, it was surrounded by cops and an ambulance. His wife recognized the car immediately and almost wrecked the car.

His funeral was ordinary. Flowers, a gray casket, a sermon and a speech by his wife. Just the things you would normally have at a funeral of such an ordinary man. He didn't leave a Will, so naturally everything goes to his wife. However, it's not the material possessions that he left behind we need to concentrate on. It's the message he has left behind unknowingly, that we need to keep reminding ourselves of. Although Bill had thought he was being an ordinary man and playing it safe, he was actually doing something very extraordinary in plain sight many people might not have realized. He took care of his family. Now, I know that sounds like it should be a given, which it should, but think about what's happening in today's society. 50% of marriages end in divorce. So many fathers skipping child support because they don't want to be there with their children. So many people leaving their kids with the other parent or with relatives because they don't want to deal with them, or they're caught up in their own selfish agendas to even remotely care for anyone other than their own loathsome selves. It's sad to think that this is now the normal way for our society to behave. Bill didn't just leave behind his life insurance policy to help his wife stay on her feet until she figures things out, he left behind what all true human beings should strive to do: protect their family. The gun wasn't just a freak accident, it was the principle of him wanting to go as far as getting a gun to protect them that made it so important. The mid-life crisis? That was society trying to tell him he messed up and wasted his life. The only waste I see here is society.