Mr.Incredible: Act 1

He told me he was it. He said it in our first conversation. There was something so absolute in his voice. Something so Honest Abe in his words. I remember thinking, Act 1, Take 100 as I had heard this at least that many times. But he stuck to the storyline and never broke character. My goal was to figure out what script he was reading from as he was a sure bet for next years Oscars. His voice even sounded like a good idea and if I could taste his words I guarentee hints of mint flavored luxuries. "What page are you reading from sir?" It seemes as though he had read me front to back and memorized my thoughts as if they were lines straight from the story of ME. He's smooth like shades of lightly brented amber and I just can't get enough. I find myself wishing I could create one word that could perfectly capture what I see, but that would be unfair to Painters and Writers alike. I often catch myself wondering if I dreamed him into existance. I would pinch myself but pretty girls just don't do those things. I stepped out on faith deciding to believe as sometimes reality is far better than what I could dream.  I'm down stage right and he's center stage left and I hope our characters collide somewhere along the lines of happily ever what have yous. He reads me like a best-seller and I want him like Christmas. He's first-edition Tolstoy and I am more Vogue's September Issue but I like him. Its magically simple and fun like the first grade. TAG, he's it.