Local creepy guy now scarier!
Big bright June evening. Neighborhood kids giggling and yelling, playing kickball outside. I'm in the kitchen with most the lights off. Hungry, making the sort of sandwich that a hard-working cubicle monkey deserves. The BL double T - Bacon, lettuce, tomato, tuna on wheat. As I fry and mash and cut, I hear the kids carrying on outside. There's something mildly comforting about the sound of kids playing. The innocence, embodiment of pure joy, the concept that this universe still has the conditions to foster happiness. Even in such a realm of hope, a villain must lurk. That villain is I.
The kickball gets launched into from its playing ground on the neighbors yard into mine. I hear it roll close to the front door - right up to the stoop. A little girl gets elected to retrieve it. Her footsteps signal her approach to my lair. I glance and for a moment we catch each others silhouettes. Hers framed in the screen door, mine back-lit by the stove-top light. She immediately gasps, grabs the ball, and books it back to the safe harbor of the originating yard. I suppose noticing a figure in a house can be fairly startling, but I'm a bit perplexed as to the girl's frightened escape. I've already established myself as the neighborhood creepy guy, but I'm not convinced that warrants her desperate departure.
I dismiss the reaction and return to cutting a thin slice of tomato. I am cutting. I am using my favorite knife. The big kitchen knife my parents bought me for my birthday last year. I just turned to a little girl who came across to my house with a huge knife in my hand. I am a monster.
You're looking at a post in the blog section.
Commenting is closed for this article.