Good, Evil and Innocence


Good, Evil and Innocence

God:    “Dougy don’t touch the stove, it is very hot it will burn you.”

Not knowing what a burn is, the pain it will cause or the mark it will leave on my soft flesh.  I stare mesmerized at the warm orange glow of the stovetop burner, to me it looks soft, and the orange is brilliant.  I feel an urge to try and put it in my mouth, but see no means of acquiring the height to facilitate this feat.

Devil:    I can however in my best judgment from the added height afforded by my

tippy toes reach up and touch the luminescent orange glowing wonder.  By this time (probably no longer than 30 to 45 seconds after I was warned) I had completely dismissed the cautions I had received advising against my new unwitting endeavor.  A quick look over my shoulder reveals that my mom is still laboring over the rolling pin.  Mental note; after this see what she’s up to, after all she did seem to raise some objection to this earlier, though I can’t seem to remember at the moment what it was.

Tiptoes, reach.  Very, Very hard bite.  Flash realization.  I now know what hot feels like.  The burner does not apologize, it is not forgiving.

Presently, the scream of pain shooting into my tiny fingers is quickly translated into the vocal equivalent of two passenger planes colliding in mid air.

Thoughts are now of terrifying intenseness.  With no clue of what can be done or how long this will last.  I am firmly fastened in this moment, frozen in this state of shock, with no personal knowledge of how to deal with it.  So the screaming continues.

Loud shrieking screams.  No mournful contemplative wail.  More of a high pitched emptying of the lungs in an attempt to drown the pain with noise.

God:    “Oh Dougy, what did you do? Shh.., shhh…”

Instinct kicks in and without missing a beat I am swept up in my mom’s arms and under the faucet.

“Oh, my baby you’ll be ok,” my mother, coos softly under my loud screams.

Somehow this soft textured voice seems to over power my own.

“You’ll be ok my baby,” my mother says.

The screaming starts to change from a loud shrill shriek to a heavy breathing blubber.

Her face is almost ready to explode with a deep guilt and soon starts to cry wishing she could absorb the pain.

Devil:  But it is my pain. It is an unforgiving pain and the still brightly luminescent

burner offers no apologies.

God:    The soothing does work.  After a span of time lasting several minutes, a time

as far as I am concerned may have lasted for a large majority of my thus far short life, I am finally starting to believe that this pain may not last forever.

Devil:  This feeling of comfort is a feeling I will again suddenly forget next week, when

I finally acquire the peak of the couch, and misjudge my dismount.