World at War

In Hunter’s room with the lights down low the screen appears brighter, a beacon in the blackness surrounding him. Empty wrappers of candy, cookies and chips are fluttering under the whirring fans of computer drives. Plastic soda bottles are strewn around the room also empty. Betty thinks it’s a metaphor for the vacuum left in young minds drained as the result of this hypnotic attraction. A world she explains to Marge so insidious that kids lose all control of realty for days on end. How will she get her son back? The image burns in her mind of her sweet teen aged son Hunter pimply faced and lost under the glaring light and mayhem of World Of Warcraft or WOW.

Marge looks around, her eyes roll and she moves closer to Betty. The gardeners are cutting the lawn and the leaf blowers send a plume of dust and leaves swirling through the yard. The sound is unbearably loud. Its epidemic she yells!
I pull into the drive with Molly in the passenger seat holding a box with three new chicks in it. Betty and Marge catch my eye and I give a little wave with my hand. Both have their arms crossed below their chests. Molly and I get out of the car. Hello I say but realize nothing could be heard over the roar of gardening equipment. Molly walks across the street and holds the chicks out for Marge and Betty to see and suddenly without warning the gardeners are done and Marge and Betty look at Molly and then the chicks as if life has lifted them off their feet.

Marge wears a baseball cap with a pony tail that comes out of the vent in back. She also drives a Suburban which is now parked out in front of her house. 10 year old James is the oldest of her three kids. James had got in a lot of trouble for stealing my iPod out of my car not long ago and he doesn’t speak to me anymore. He’s sitting in the Suburban with his two younger twin brothers, Michael and Matthew. I have to take James to soccer practice Marge says. A petite woman Marge climbs into the Suburban and behind the wheel her head barely appears over the dash. There seems to be some significance to driving a huge SUV giving “overprotective mom” new meaning in this town. It is no doubt part of some secret cult like the Masons for suburban moms where pony tails, baseball caps and SUV’s are standard fare. Throwing it in reverse, Marge backs up nearly missing the “Green Bin” for yard waste and Jake the brown mutt down the street chases after her as she turns the corner. I notice Betty’s cat Gus on the fence licking his chops and staring at us and I whisk Molly back to the house with the three chicks.

It’s 2 AM and I can’t sleep again. There’s nothing in particular I worry about but it’s this general malaise about life these days. I turn on the TV and turn it off. I go to the computer and play some solitaire. I surf the net. I pick up the huge volume of John Adams that I have been working on for 6 months, read a couple of pages and then lose interest. What purpose have I served in this life?
And then I see it. It’s a flashlight stroking the blackness outside. Oh shit it’s a burglar. What do I do? Maybe it’s not. Where’s the baseball bat? If I turn the outside lights on maybe it’ll scare him away. Blingo, got him. Lights up.

What the hell Hunter what are you doing out there at 2 AM!!

Mom sent me out looking for Gus. He got out somehow and mom’s worried about him running off.

Well you scared the hell out of me. I thought you were a burglar.

Sorry about that.

I’ll let you know if I see him. Goodnight

Goodnight.

I go into the living room to check on the chicks that are in their box under a warm lamp. They are all there and chirping away. It’s ok. You’re safe. Nobody’s going to hurt you. The world’s a pretty scary place for you guys.