A god among men

There are very seldom moments when one can be absolutely certain that they’re conversing with a god. I’ve met angels, and I’ve met devils, but today a god stopped over for a spot of tea. Hammering his fist away at my door, I jumped in surprise at the voice. It was William F. Metts the Third, who has been, and always will be, a god in the flesh.

There are no words for how I can describe him and do him justice. He simply is, and always will be, one of the greatest and most charismatic people I will ever run into. Simply knowing of him has been one of the most privileging experiences I can think of. The reminiscing stories and tales, the re-lived moments we’d shared slaving for others, the antics and the laughs, they were as bittersweet as could be. The way the sheer strength of the deluge pulls you under even as you rejoice in its benevolent force, that is how contemplating the events that have been with Metts are. Like trying to think about the best sunset you’ve ever seen, the best food you’ve ever eaten. It brings back a smile stronger than a blade, and a longing as sharp as the edge.

To you Mr. Metts: Let us hope that our paths shall meet again.
[Mr. Metts, standing with author and Thin Mints]