The head monk looked into Bill's eyes for a long, ominous moment.
Eventually, he smiled.
"My son," the head monk said, "when you came to us, you were but a youth with a scar on his soul. You had been cut more deeply than any man should have to endure, and yet you persevered. More than that, you excelled. You have inspired us all with your strength and conviction, and also with your insight." The man stepped forward and clasped a hand over Bill's shoulder. "I cannot teach you what you seek, for you already know it."
At first, Bill felt himself reeling inside. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had he thrown his life away for nothing? Had he wasted all of those years training, only to fail at the last step? The thought was too terrible to consider, and Bill experienced a sense of loss unlike any he had felt since...
Since...
In a flash of clarity, Bill understood.
The Ultimate Comeback, he knew, was a weapon of untold power. It was to be wielded only by they who had discovered it for themselves, and it could only be discovered by they who had felt its devastation firsthand. It was so elegant, so perfect, and so deadly... and Bill knew that it had always been inside of him.
The head monk, watching Bill's face, smiled again. "You are ready."
Over the next few days, Bill made preparations to return home. He bade goodbye to his brothers at the monastery, then trekked back down to the village at the base of the mountain. He worked tirelessly in their fields and households, saving every bit that he could in order to afford a plane ticket back to the United States. It took still another year, but finally, Bill found himself stepping off the airplane onto American soil (or, rather, onto American linoleum in an American airport), and hitchhiking in the direction of his hometown.
When he finally arrived, Bill was aghast at what he discovered. This once-welcoming neighborhood had descended into squalor and disrepair. Shops were boarded up and trash littered the street. Stray dogs ran in packs, fighting over scraps of rubbish. What few people Bill encountered would quickly avert their gazes and hurry on their way. The warmth and compassion that he had experienced in his youth were both gone, replaced by a desolate despondence and an overcast sky.
It didn't take long to find that Bill's parents were long dead. His friends had all moved on, and the legend of Bill's high school success had faded into little more than an unlikely memory. Despair filled Bill's heart, along with a thrum of rising panic. Was he too late? Had he spent so much time abroad that he'd missed his chance to have his revenge?
As if in answer, a gust of wind brought a scrap of paper to Bill's feet. He reached down and retrieved it... and realized that it was a ticket to the circus's last-ever show. Not only that, but the performance was being held that very day, and the ticket would grant Bill access to the very same seat he had occupied all those years ago.
This, Bill decided, was fate.
He squared his shoulders and walked in the direction of the big top.
