Call me Sir Splendid. The Mostly Invincible Sir Splendid. He Who Splends. Friend to All, Regardless of Stature, Station or Splendidness. The Man That Santa Forgot.
Or don’t. Honestly, names aren’t everything.
My real one is David Robert Henne, for example.
Not a particularly impressive title, I’ll be the first to admit. Doesn’t elicit images of a thick-haired, musclebound Lothario. Typically generates the portrait of a balding man with irritable bowels who cannot eat baking chocolate after 6 p.m., despite his every effort.
“Sir Splendid” on the other hand. Sir Splendid is my superhero moniker. Was my superhero moniker — have to get used to saying that.
As of two months ago, I no longer hold the mantle of Sir Splendid. The super powers upon which I built my legacy are no longer in my possession. A series of atrocities, of which I am completely innocent, led to my losing the very source of those gifts. And now I’ve reverted to the eczema-riddled David Robert Henne again.
…You know what, I’d prefer it if you did call me Sir Splendid.