On the roof of a building, a man dressed in a banana costume danced. Sunlight shone over his head, like an orb, like a halo. He was unique, the only man in the world dressed like a banana, dancing on a rooftop. It was a spectacular moment. People watched in awe. A crowd had gathered, police restraining the masses who surged forward, wanting to see the messiah up close, to touch him, even though he was unreachable, standing on the roof. It was a two story apartment building, so ordinary, but made brilliant by the figure dancing on top of it. Never in the history of the world had one man done something so profound. Ever since that day, the attitude of the populace had changed. It was different now. Every day, they awakened to the thought: "A man danced on the roof in a banana costume." Their lives were never the same again. It was amazing, how one man impacted the world so much, with just one small selfless act. He had danced on the roof in a banana costume for everyone. For every boy, girl, woman, man, transvestite, and mentally retarded baby born without a brain. He had done it for humanity, and it had responded in kind, remembering his actions for centuries, creating magnificent statues for posterity, tapestries, bottling expensive wines and drinking them until they were delirious.

They built monuments for him. No one in the world held so many honors, so much value in the eyes of human society. Yet he remained humble—he was only a man dressed in a banana costume dancing on the roof.