Lionel the Grand Fellow was pleased to find himself invited to the Grand Fellow Ball. He knew he was a true Grand Fellow through and through.
"Lionel you most certainly are a Grand Fellow." some people would say.
"Why thank you." Lionel would say.
The big day came for the Grand Fellow Ball. Lionel wore his finest coat. He had reserved his place in line. He knew he was in welcomed company amongst many other a Grand Fellow. Though he privately allowed himself to believe in his heart that his grandness exceeded his fellow Grand Fellows.
The Grand Fellow Ball was the ball of the year. It was the place to be. And the place to be seen.
"This sure is a long line." said Richmond the Gentle.
"My dear, I don't understand why we are made to wait." said Sigfried the Fop.
Lionel stood there quietly. He felt the same way. Time went on. The line stood still. The fellow in line had grown quite weary. Other fellows, who seemed not as grand, would in one way or another manage to bypass the line.
"Why are they admitted when we are omitted?" said Clanson the Bright.
"We aren't omitted, we just haven't received admission." said Randible the Wise.
"They progress. We wait." observed Clanson.
Lionel began to feel discouragement. Especially when he watched Ulysses the Muck, who was by no means a grand fellow, nor a fellow grander than Lionel, be granted immediate entrance. Lionel's grand confidence was like warm air, pushed from the balloon of his outer being.
"Might I suggest that there is nothing like an ignored line to make one feel not grand?" declared Lionel.
"Patience is a grand virtue." snapped Cliven the Brewer.
"Perhaps the grandest moment is where you are right now?" proclaimed Georgie the Fellow, to which all the other waiting fellows applauded.
Lionel mulled these proverbial statements over. He had been shamed. He hoped the sham of his grandiosity would not be revealed any further. He put on a hard expression resembling something grand and survived the night.