What the hell? My son tried to step on a lizard! I felt like I let nature and humanity down when I observed his attempted life-ending stomp. I never taught him to be so destructive, especially towards a life. Look, if we lived in a country where the food we ate tended to run away from us and we had to hunt and kill the animal to survive, then, well, bon appétit. But this wasn't the case. I just went grocery shopping, for heaven's sake!
And he didn't try to hide his planned attempt. "lizard," he shouted.
Like a soldier, he stomped his feet on the ground and marched towards the cold-blooded-skinned reptile.
"Christopher, what are you doing," I asked.
I saw the brown creature resting on the surface of the driveway. Surly, he'd see my son charging towards him. I mean, after all my kids, the scale of a large building compared to him.
The only thing missing was my son proclaiming," Fee-fi-fo-fum…."
That lizard's gonna move – I thought to myself.
My son got closer, but the lizard didn't scamper. The little creature turned its head upwards, leering at my son playing an awful game of chicken. Which makes you wonder what came first: the reptile or the egg?
"Christopher, leave that lizard alone."
I was getting nervous. Neither my son nor the lizard was giving up their position. I began to walk towards my son. I wasn't sure if an intervention was warranted, but I wanted to be close to him in case.
When I realized the lizard wouldn't move, I shouted as if it would heed my warning.
"Shoo, scat, go on, lizard, run for your life!"
And yet he didn't budge. Oh, why won't this lizard move!
Christopher was getting closer, the gap between life and death was closing in, and my son would be the final decision maker, the judge, jury, and executioner of this little life.
Run. Lizard. Run!
I raised my sons better than this, didn't I? There isn't a need for such violence. Save it for the ring or on the gridiron. Better yet, save it for that annoying Geico gecko!
The scene came to focus; the situation was dire, and the time was counting down until its death.
"Mercy, son, have mercy," I pleaded.
Like a heartless King, he ignored my pleas. This lizard's fate was sealed, signed, and delivered.
“Au revoir, sweet lizard. À la prochaine. Until we meet again.”
"Dad, it's a leaf, not a lizard."
"What, son?"
"It's just a leaf. See. What did you think it was a lizard?"
"But, it looked like a lizard, and you looked like you were going to stomp it and.."
"I just cleaned the driveway, Dad. I'm tired of these fall leaves spreading across the driveway like little lizards."
"But you scremed out, lizard?"
"Because look at these leaves; they scatter like lizards everywhere. So I nicknamed them."
"Oh, lizard."
I am either an overprotective parent or a great advocate for lizards.
C' lest la vie, Au Revoir.
508 words
Comments
Post a Comment