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The Full Story behind the Concept 

Act 1: Influence

Mr. Rogers’ show was running in the background like in the case of many houses in the neighborhood; we all grew up with him, he was our favorite and I can only say he taught us all the good things about life. This man had a magical kindness about him, and he could hook you up with his sweet words and the way he almost looked into your eyes through the thick glass of the TV screen.  In those days, there was an episode hard to forget; “Finding Prince Tuesday”, full of drama excitement, and yet the boy’s mind was caught up with something else.


His mind was caught up with this strange new revolution that was taking place at that point; it was hard to comprehend for his 9-year-old brain, but it was contagious beyond description, a vibe that felt like crawling under your skin before you could even notice. It came as a wave crushing everything in its path, converting hearts and souls alike to a feeling that seemed so sweet, normal, something that was meant to happen. 

The boy’s eyes were aimlessly gazing at the screen; he wasn’t really listening to what Mr. Rogers had to say. Instead, his very being was caught up with this catchy song that gave him the goose bumps and made him sing its lyrics over and over again.

I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing 

‘til they got a hold of me. 

I opened doors for little old ladies,

I helped the blind to see. 

I got no friends 'cause they read the papers. 

They can't be seen with me and I'm gettin' real shot down

 And I'm feeling mean. 

No more Mister Nice Guy, 

No more Mister Clean, 

No more Mister Nice Guy, 

They say he's sick, he's obscene.

 I got no friends 'cause they read the papers.

 They can't be seen with me and I'm feelin' real shot down

 And I'm gettin' mean.

The carefree boy was jumping and bouncing through the room at this point while singing; he felt the rhythm now like never before and was becoming almost one with it without even noticing its gripping effect.


Did he truly understand the meaning behind those rebellious sounding words? It’s hard to determine, but most likely he simply got carried away as the pulse in his veins amplified with every beat. That song was catchy without a doubt, and in a way, it embodied all the desires of freedom the human souls is craving for.


There’s something about that darkness that tries to pull us in from dusk ‘til dawn, a crazy sweetness that’s only in appearance sweet; a trick of mind and heart that’s bound to break even the last virtue we might hold. 

His bouncing had nothing dramatic about it, or evil at that matter; he could not understand the truth those words were hiding. Such things were too complex and too subliminal, yet they were packaged nicely to be sold to a wide audience, regardless of the age of those who saw or heard the message. 

Suddenly, something familiar burst through the rain sounds and crushing feelings; a voice that sounded sweeter than anything else in this world. 

“Andrew… Andrew, the lunch is ready, come downstairs so you can eat.”  The mother’s voice was unmistakable, and still it had a slight difficulty from bringing the young boy out of that trance he was experiencing. 

A few moments passed, until the voice of the boy could be heard… “I am coming mom,” he replied while still humming the rhythms of the song he was so caught up with… “No Mr. Nice Guy…” he kept singing as he prepared the leave the room. Mr. Rogers’ and his show was still running in the background at this point, but Andrew had forgotten completely about Prince Tuesdays and the plot to find him.

As Andrew left the door cracked behind him, his head was still moving to the rhythm of the song. The voice of his mother pierced through that song in his head once again. “The soup is going to get cold soon…” she warned the boy who shook his head this time, appearing like he managed to push away the melody from his head. 

“I am coming, I am coming…” he joyfully replied as a wide smile took over his face from ear to ear. 

“Ohh, my favorite;” he smiled once more as he reached the floor of the living room.


“You’re rather joyful today;” his mother remarked.

 Andrew nodded his head; “Yeah, I guess, I am in a good mood today.” Then he laughed slightly while rubbing his hands.


“I see you like that song a lot;” she added, but there was not a trace of smile of her face. Clearly, she understood more than she wanted to say, but Andrew was too young and innocent to comprehend the true message that lied underneath the thin cover.


“Yeah, it sounds nice… and has a nice beat to it.” 

“Indeed” his mother sighed, then placed the steaming bowl on the table “I am not going to argue with you over that one.”

At this point, Andrew was too caught up with the delicious food in front of him and started shoveling in without even blinking. His hunger for food was equally as large as his hunger for freedom and rebellion, if not greater. His eyes looked different now, as he was taking the spoon to his mouth and he seemed to have forgotten completely about the song and its wicked message.

It was fairly easy for him to jump from one state to another; changing feelings and states of mind in a blink of an eyes; thus, appearing like those words had no impact on him. As if they were like snowflakes falling during warmer weather, where they would disappear within the first moments after touching the ground.

Act 2: Action

Time flies like the restless rhythm of the sun rising and setting in a chain that seems to have no end. That same freedom from everything took over the boy, now in his twenties, who too soon learned how he is the only master of his destiny. His actions would suffer no consequences as long as he chose not to. Not here, and not beyond; there were no virtues and no sins attached to this world and his own existence made no exception from the rule. 

Only the moment, the very second that accompanied each breath was the only thing that mattered and the feeling that came along. The idea of happiness and fulfillment began to take strange shapes at this point, as no guidelines were needed anymore. A sort of mindless jungle became the rule, where any resemblance of a “Mr. Nice Guy” had faded completely. Not even the faintest memory of him existed now, the truly was “No More Mr. Nice Guy and therefore there were no limits to what he could do and achieve. The world belonged to him in its entirety.


His slightly long hair was caressing his face now as he was mastering his act on the stage with loose crowds cheering his name all around him; 

“Andrew, Andrew, Andrew…” ecstatic voices cheered as he felt their warmth; a strange sensation was crawling under his skin now and made him feel like a God of the ages. This kind of restless adulation can have a maddening effect on people; if not restrained it can take over you, it messes with your mind to an extent you can’t even imagine. He would listen to no one and basked in that strange conditional love that came apparently from all directions.


After coming off stage, women would flock at his feet exactly like mindless sheep when pushed from behind.  "Andrew, Andrew… please, an autograph.” They would beg and he, like a charming knight, would look down upon them with a superior eye. 

“Rest assured ladies, there is a piece of me for everybody.”  He laughed while spreading autographs left and right.


This was without a doubt a moment of glory but would not be the last one in his illustrious life. After a few brief moments, a voice could be heard coming from the backstage.


“Hey, Andrew… come over!”

He slowly turned his head towards the band’s manager, a gray-haired man in his late forties, who was always worried and set on doing things right. Andrew would often mock him for his care, exploiting the man’s obsession for perfection.

“Chill man, I am coming… can’t you see I am drowning in fans out there?” he added with a voice boasting with arrogance. 

Andrew then returned to the woman adulating him; he touched them in all the wrong ways with his hands as they were pushing to get a picture of him. None of them said anything, thus he indulged in doing whatever made him feel good, because it felt right… and normal.  

Walking towards the backstage, he sees this cute young girl waiting for someone; he could see the innocence in her eyes, by the way she did not even dare to look at him straightforward. His lust took over him instantly. He stopped and looked at this petite angel without saying a word. His pride was filling his chest, but no words came out of her mouth. 

This unusual silence angered Andrew beyond description, because he was used to be assaulted and adored by everyone. He was a star and deserved all the adulation and praise the world could offer… at least that’s what he thought. Being a successful musician made all the difference for him, it clouded his judgment, up to a point where he was failing to see the true world surrounding him. All he could see and feel were the crowds gathered at their concerts, those people who were hypnotized already and would rock to the same rhythm. 

“What is she doing here?” he yelled at the preoccupied manager who had his nose stuck in some papers.

The manager did not reply at first; that was the last straw as Andrew liked to consider himself the center of the world. 

“Sal, I am friggin' talking to you!’ he yelled and this time he managed to catch the man’s attention. 


“What happened, Andrew?” he asked approaching the both. The poor girl started to feel embarrassed at this point. 

“Give me smoke…” Andrew demanded with a stern voice and the manager quickly pulled a pack of Marlboro from his back pocket.“You know these are not good for you…” Andrew scoffed lighting his cigarette “Shut the frig up…Sal, stick to your job and don’t you teach me how to live my life. You suck at living anyway…” then he turned his attention towards the girl; his right eyebrow was up as he scanned the girl from head to toe.


Sal put his head down in silence at this point; there was not much he could say and knew too well that any argument would backfire with Andrew; this rock star, could never stomach criticism, regardless if it was well intended or not.

“What is she doing here?”

Sal looked at the girl trying to remember; “I think she is waiting for Chaz; he told me something about it.”

Chaz was the drummer of the Rock Band; a handsome man as well, also a free minded one, who loved to live his life to the fullest. No regrets, as Andrew used to say…  and if it came to regret something, he preferred to regret something he did instead of regretting something he wished he would’ve done.

​“Ohh, so he is having private guests backstage.” Andrew remarked while dragging from that cigarette, only to blow the smoke in the girl’s face. 

“I will remember you for this!” he threatened Sal then left without giving any explanation for his shitty attitude. 

Walking inside the band room, Andrew nudged his friend Chaz, rather powerfully; “You’d rather go out,” Andre scoffed “There is an innocent looking one that’s been waiting for you for quite some time.” 

Chaz smelled the envy right away; “You want them all for yourself now? what the hell is wrong with you?” Andrew did not even look at him; “Frig off…” then grabbed a bottle of whiskey and started chugging down straight from the bottle.

No Mr. Nice Guy indeed! Andrew was taking out all his dark demons without restraint and he felt no shame and no remorse for what he was doing. He couldn’t care less about what the others were feeling as long as he took center stage; a complete and utter lack of respect for any living thing or other, defined his barren soul now. All the bad influences had crawled under his skin and were making him now. “You know what?” he ground his teeth as soon as he placed the bottle back on the table. “Frig this, and all of you…” 

Andrew smashed the bottle of whiskey against the floor, making a mess out of it.“What the frig are you looking at?” he lashed out at his friends. 

“You’re all nothing but a bunch of losers anyway!”  He then stormed out of the room without looking back, engulfed by this bitter rage and even stumbled upon that innocent girl who was still waiting on the hallway.“Get out of my way!” Andrew growled at her as he pushed her against the wall. 

Nothing and no one in this world could stop him now, from doing whatever devious plan he had in mind; certainly, a complete foolishness, but he was too blind to notice that.  He walked out of the building, into the parking lot; his mind and his vision were clouded with alcohol and rage. 

“Where is my car?” He shouted in open air. There was indeed a young boy responsible parking the cars, who came as fast as he could. 

“Yes sir…” he muttered with fear, but Andrew could only see this as a sign of weakness. 

“Where the frig is my car? I want it now!” he demanded, and the boy quickly rushed nodding his head.

It did not take him a minute to bring it to Andrew, but this still felt like an eternity to our super star. As the boy wanted to get out of the car so he could give the keys to Andrew, the latter lost his patience and simply grabbed the boy’s hand and dragged him out of the car, throwing in on the ground. 

“Move, damn it!” Andrew ground his teeth.

The boy saw he was drunk and tried to warn the arrogant man.

“You know, you shouldn’t drive like this.” 

This remark felt like the last drop to Andrew; 

“Are you my friggin' mother and I don’t not know it, wouldn't listen to you even if you were?” he laughed, spitting at the boy. “Move the frig away, or I’m gonna drive over you.” “Damn it… everyone knows best now, friggin bastards…” Andrew muttered to himself as he lit another cigarette. The boy was now crawling out of his way and looked at Andrew with scared eyes as he had not done anything bad to him, and yet Andrew treated him miserably. 

The helpful word or worry of a mother would impress Andrew little and it had lost any influence during these types of out bursts.  Andrew had cut his links to everyone who loved him. It was too hard for him to bear those mild words and phone calls that were supposed to set him on the right path. It all sounded like white noise in the background that only annoyed him and brought him nothing good. 

With his window lowered, he started out to drive, certainly recklessly, through the city.  He did not care about himself or other drivers on the road and acted as if the road belonged to him entirely. “I am the king of the nighttime world babyyyy!” he screamed with his head pushed through the window as he readied to hit the gas and take on the road.   

His sick imagination caused him to see the world through different lenses; the fog that had taken over his eyes and senses, was barely noticeable, to him at least. The spirit of the world felt like it used a different tongue when speaking to him; most of the time there was this pure silence that caused his thoughts to echo inside his head. That strengthened his own rotten convictions that only pushed him towards the edge of the cliff.  Andrew had no idea of the truth, only the makeshift reality his early influences had built around him… and that was barely visible as well.


“Yeah, they’re all jealous of me…” he concluded with pride. Unfortunately, his eyes had lost their focus due to so much booze and arrogance. 

An obstacle, in the form of a woman appeared in front of him suddenly; Andrew had no idea if there was a crosswalk or not, it was too late for making such judgments, his instincts kicked in. Without even thinking of what he was doing, he pulled on the wheel to the right as hard as he could to avoid hitting that woman.  It wasn’t clear if this was a moment of lucid thought, of the almighty decided to give him another chance.  Sometimes, it knows better than we can comprehend…the true meaning of our existence and the true reason as to why we were born into this world in the first place. 

Andrew was far from such judgments at that moment; his heart was too caught up with the earthly struggles he was facing, such as wealth and fame. He was too busy acquiring and spending and pretending to be something he was never meant to be. The illusion he was living was too sweet unfortunately for him to give up, and he embraced that stage avatar to the last note; he became one with it until he forgot entirely who he really was. 

A loud “Bam” like sound managed to wake his senses up, but only for a blink of an eye; he didn’t get more, and truth be said, he did not deserve more either. It was enough for his wretched life to flash in front of his eyes and remember him of all the wrongdoing he committed.

After that a deep darkness took over him; no thoughts, sounds or wild desires followed, only this pure emptiness that has the power to scare the angels themselves.  But did it scare him… it’s hard to determine since his soul had been darkened a long time ago, and maybe with this instance, he found his rightful place. 

Weeks after, the warm light of the sun managed to caress his weary eyes; as Andrew looked around, he couldn’t believe the things he witnessed. Sal, along with his parents were there, watching his every, weary breath.  A few tears streaked his cheeks, but this feeling did not last for too long; in moments, that same old rage took over him, and bitter venom was spilled out of his tongue. 

“What are you doing here? You come to watch me die?” 

Sal tried to intervene with kindness, but there was no room for such things with Andrew; “Andrew, how could you say such a thing? We are here because we care about you.” 

​Andrew scoffed in response “Yeah, right, you only care about the money I can make for you… people love me so much and you feared that you were going to lose your gold mine.”

​His mother was shocked “Andrew, baby don’t say such words;”  Her son didn’t even look at her; “Go away, I don’t need you… I don’t need anyone, you get it. I’ll get through this on my own, as I have done so many times before.” 

Andrew’s acute decisiveness was not bearing any truth to it; still, his hatred was growing ever larger and now his attention was turned back towards his manager, Sal. 

“Why the frig are you looking at me like this?” 

Sal’s eyes were still as he gazed at this desperate man in front of him; he could not utter any words at this point, as it was clear that his friend was deaf to anything that did not suit him. 


There was something deep inside Andrew’s mind, something stuck in stone just like the Excalibur; no one could take it out regardless of the circumstances and it had a lot to do with the fervor linked to his apparent independence. 

His young eyes were stuck to a sports re-run of an old boxing match on the screen of his TV.  He absorbed every move and every punch, in his silliness he dreamed he would be the same one day.  Immune to whatever the world had to say about him and above all, invincible! 

Muhammad Ali’s boxing matches were not to miss for Andrew growing up, who in a way he felt the same urge and the same emotion as the men who climbed up in that ring. He admired Muhammad and his skill.  He could feel the sweat droplets flowing down their foreheads and the blood coming out of Ali’s opponents, and he rejoiced every victory this titan would take with the price of his own efforts, his own skill and way of doing things.

The press conferences were the most delicious and Andrew would sip each second with every breath; he was so caught up and hypnotized that he forgot he had to eat or do anything else. His mother was the one who constantly reminded him of his chores and duties… and he would often complain. 

“If Muhammad Ali had done chores around the house, he wouldn’t have become the greatest boxer of all times.”   His mother always met him with a smile; “You don’t know what kind of life he lived.”  But young Andrew felt he knew better already and would cast his mother’s words aside.


His mind was set already on a path that he believed was meant for him, but what he understood out of that path, or the things he was witnessing with his own eyes, was a completely different story. His distorted reality began to take shape with small steps in early youth, and was made up of chunks of truths and crumbs of real situation. He always witnessed the façade, the end result that said nothing about the struggle and the pain behind the mask. 

Thus, it was easy for him to makeshift his own idea and turn the ‘teachings’ into something of his own, distorting and turning the truth in the process, into something convenient to him. The braveness was still there, but now it was turning into rejection of the worst kind, a vicious hatred that broke the hearts of those who loved him… and that, was only for him to prove he was the worst narcissist. 

​ “Go!” he yelled now “Just go! I don’t want to see you in this room, you are making me sick.” 

His mother was tearing now, but he showed no signs of regret; instead he lashed out at her with the utmost viciousness; “Don’t cry on me now, you’ve always looked down on me, always telling me I was wrong, always telling me what I should do… as if I didn’t know for myself. Look, now, I am good on my own, a successful man, richer than you’ve ever been.” 

His mother cared not about the money and fame her son had acquired; her soul was aching because she almost lost him. “You almost died…” she stuttered almost but Andrew was not impressed at all. “So what?” he scoffed “By my own hand… it’s my business. Now go, I want to be alone right now… all of you!”

Eventually, his wish came true; his parents along with Sal walked out of his hospital room leaving him to bask in his own bitterness. Andrew’s apparent braveness would not stick with him for too long as tears began to flow down his face. His teeth were clenching with anger as he was trying to portray those tears as tears of anger, but deep down, he knew too well it was not true. 

His stubbornness could not be defeated though, and he kept walking on the same path right after he walked out of the hospital. A change had taken place inside his heart, but he was blind to see or understand anything; old habits die hard, especially when you don’t want them to and you keep adding gas to the fire. 

​God, or whatever was responsible for man’s destiny, decided to give the former young boy another chance; he climbed back on that stage only a few months after the car accident occurred. The recklessness was still there with him and he chose to pretend that nothing had happened.  He embraced the fame, the money and the people’s emotion that was thrown at him in giant waves. He became a self-proclaimed “God” again in their eyes and ravished in seeing how they all followed him as mindless sheep when there are going to their doom without even noticing. And yet, time is unforgiving; it cares less about who you are or who you used to be and with every little step it begins to unravel your mistakes and throw them in your face one by one. Some say, time is the best counsel and the best teacher one could have, because it is the only one who can pull to the surface the true nature of people.

One night after the band was in the studio recording their new album.  Andrew yelled “Sal, why don’t you go find that girl I almost hit in the accident, she was so kind to stay by my side, perhaps I could repay her by letting her spend some time with me.”  The band stopped, you could almost hear the sound of a record scratching in the background, Andrew was oblivious to the moment.  The band mates put their heads down and left the room, Sal stayed behind.

Sal’s response was not what Andrew expected.  In fact, it took Andrews breath away.  “Andrew,” Sal started, “you weren’t in a car accident, you never made it out of the parking lot”  “That can’t be, quit friggin' with me” Andrew spewed back.  “I spent days in the hospital.”

Sal responded cautiously, “do you have any scars, do you remember any broken bones or bandages covering wounds?”  Sal could see that Andrew was deep in thought and realized that he had no memory of the “physical wounds.”  “The hospital that you were in was because you mentally broke down.”  “Every bit as critical brother, just not what you remember.”  “We’re just glad you made it back either way, we love you.” 

Andrew walked away, confused, scared and with more questions than answers.  For the first time in a long time he felt out of control and mortal.

Later that evening, in the quiet of his home, Andrew tried to remember the “accident.”  He remembered waiting for his car after the gig, high from adrenaline, the smoking, the drinking, the anger and yes pulling the young valet out of the car.  He thought deeper to retrace his tracks but after making his “king of the night-time world” howl, jarringly there was nothing.  Andrew couldn’t remember driving the streets of the city.  He thought “where was that cross walk and what did the woman look like”?  


Suddenly a cold winter chill his heart seemed to warm, like the how the rising sun begins to heat the day.  The woman appeared in is memory.  She was clear now.  Andrew remembered how she walked in front of the car at the exit of the parking lot and how she slowly came to the driver side window.  Andrew remembered her beauty, vividly now.  She was so beautiful that she seemed to float and glow like an angel.  She stayed with Andrew until the anger returned in the hospital but vowed, she would always be there for him if he needed her.

 Andrew thought, “could it be?”

Time began to carve deep scars in Andrew’s heart; the pain they brought with them began to open his eyes to the truth. Small droplets of sorrow began to pour into his soul and that spurred regret, as he looked back of his own path and at all those people craving to be like him. The so-called sweetness of his life that was made up of shallow things, like money and a fake kind of adulation and worship that had nothing in common with true love. 

The same illusions that caught his soul when he was young, the media and all those other things happening around, had managed to play a similar role with the new generation. The only difference now was HIM; he was not the influenced now, rather the influencer, and in both cases, Andrew was utterly ignorant to what was really going on. Wrong, distorted truths were propagated, twisting the heart of crowds, blinding their eyes to what really mattered in life.  For all those youths Andrew had influenced, it was too soon to realize and yet for him it looked like it was already too late to make a change.  The realization of the disaster was slowly creeping under his skin and the effects were terrible. His mind began to fear and quiver aware of the destruction he had created; the truth was hidden from appearance, and yet the model was the same.  The horrid effects would only be seen later on, exactly like in his case. 

The wrong had been done now, but with the realization of it, a step was made; Andrew began to wonder “What if… what if my story, all I have learned in life, could make a difference?” 


Act 3:  Redemption 

His hesitation was obvious because it’s easier to break something than repair it and for that reason, anger set in due to his impotence to change things. He did not know this game of being the ‘nice’ guy because he never thought of trying it. He would cry on his knees and curse at the open sky, but no answer came back. 

It felt pointless to him; his ears had been rendered deaf to the voice of God. No relief was there for him to find; his ordeal was only for him to surpass as he skinned his knees through the dirt of his sins. Eventually, Andrew reached the bottom of what he would call suffering; his soul and heart were broken as he could find no solution to fix his own wrongdoings. His bitter tears would cross over the flesh of his cheeks turning them ablaze.  He couldn’t go lower now and in the darkness of his own sorrow, he understood he was the one responsible for his return; his wings had been severed through his own actions and now that he found himself at the bottom of the abyss, he had time to reflect. 

No shame and no prejudice could get in his way now; he would emerge a new man just like the soul comes cleansed through holy water. Andrew’s goal was set in stone now as he muttered to himself “I’ll dedicate myself to you, from now on!” 

The shine in his eyes was different as he uttered those words, and his gaze was fixed towards the other side of his existence, a side he never tasted and never wanted to look at because of his wrong convictions.  


The turmoil is real, I feel it and as I turn the station on the car radio, the same song turns up; 

“No Mr. Nice Guy…

 I used to be such a sweet, sweet thing 

‘til they got a hold of me. 

I opened doors for little old ladies,

I helped the blind to see. 

I got no friends 'cause they read the papers. 

They can't be seen with me and I'm gettin' real shot down

 And I'm feeling mean. 

No more Mister Nice Guy, 

No more Mister Clean, 

No more Mister Nice Guy, 

They say he's sick, he's obscene.

 I got no friends 'cause they read the papers.

 They can't be seen with me and I'm feelin' real shot down

 And I'm gettin' mean.

Andrew cannot help but smile as he hears the same words and rhythm that changed his life; the emotion is not the same as he now understands the truth behind the lyrics, and he can discern between what’s good and bad.

The sins that guided him through life; all the wrong doings, the pride, the lust and wrath that darkened his soul for so long were gone now. There is something left in his mouth like a bitter taste that keeps reminding him, of what a fool he used to be. 

“What is it father?” the squeaky voice of the kid next to him in the car manages to wake him up from his trance. 

“The story, son, is a long one to tell.” Andrew mumbles with a grin.

“I could kill some time; I am bored of this game already.” His son replies throwing the phone in the back seat. 

The song reminds me of my past influences as I look at the current version of the 21st century. 

“This is a story of bad things, ‘what ifs’, ‘anger’, ‘penitence’, ‘broken souls’, ‘bitter realization’, ‘forgiveness’, ‘regret’ and ‘redemption’… and all paved on a road that will always take us all to the other side.” 

“You mean death?” the kid asks confused. 

Andrew smiles shaking his head “Nah, the other side of our souls, more of a trip from darkness to light, a journey for the truth of life.” 

The boy’s eyes grow wider now as Andrew begins to tell him how things really happened; a young soul should always learn of the truth before this becomes too late and it gets lost amidst the voices of the world, all spewing lies and twisted truths. 

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