The Boy Who Cried Moth

There is a kid next door.  A child about 7 years old.  This child screams.  He screams at moths and mosquitos because, to him, every mosquito is a monster and every moth is trying to kill him.

“OH MY GOD!  OH MY GOD!  Mom!  Come here!  MOM!!  HELP!”

Those blood-curdling screams were coming from my neighbor’s back yard.  The first time I heard this, I jumped from my chair and hurried out the back door to rescue this child.  This child was obviously in grave danger as told by the nature of his scream.  Also, I’m a father of two boys, so I know the sound of a child in real danger.  My heart raced.  My chest pounded.  I was in full rescue mode.

“Mom!  Kill it!  A MOTH!!”

I stopped cold in my doorway.  My rescue mode now turned to anger mode as my eyes met his.  He smiled at me and we shared a moment.  A quiet moment.  A moment that this child will not fully understand for quite some time.  He scared me.  He used panic to get attention.  And now that unspoken goodwill I had for this unfamiliar kid is broken.  I will not be fooled again.

When his mother finally came out, she came equipped with a fly swatter.  Immediately set off by the sight of the swatter, he pointed, “Kill it, mom!  It’s right there!” His mother swatted at the moth repeatedly until she finally delivered the deadly blow; sending the moth into oblivion.

I turned to walk inside thinking it was over, but no… “There’s another right there, mom!  Kill it!”  Then they both charged through their backyard slaying moths together.  I’d have thought it was a lovely sight had my adrenaline not been abused.

Days later I would hear that scream again, but one mixed with crying, “MOM!  OWWWW!!  MOM!!”  Once again I jumped from my chair and ran out my door; my blood pumping.  But, right as I’m about to jump the fence and save this boy, he screamed again, “A MOSQUITO!  Oh my god!  A mosquito!”  Once again, the mother ambles her way outside holding the fly swatter.

This time my gaze is fixed on her.  She gives me a smile.  I nod and say, “Your boy certainly scared me.”  She shrugged, “I’m used to it.”  Then I noticed a threatened look in her son’s eye.  I had stolen her attention from him.  He tugs her arm, “The mosquito almost bit me, mom.  You have to kill it.  I saw a baby moth on the tree, too.  You have to kill it before it turns into a monster.”  And with their mission ahead of them, they followed each other into the fray.

I wonder what I’m going to do the next time I hear him scream.  Will I run outside?  Will I ignore him?  What if I do ignore him and he ends up on the front page of the local paper: “LOCAL BOY ATTACKED BY RARE MONSTER MOTH”.  And every daily edition of the paper would bring an update: “PARENTS WONDER IF NEIGHBOR COULD HAVE SAVED THEIR BOY”.  Until a final headline: “BOY SUCCUMBS TO VICIOUS MOTH ATTACK, NEIGHBOR HELD RESPONSIBLE”.

It’s in my nature to help, so I imagine I’ll still jump when I hear him scream.  Only I won’t run to the door, I’ll peek out the window.  Unless a giant moth is kickboxing him, I’m not going outside.

How Will I Know When She’s Inviting Me?

“When are you coming to bed, Chris?” she asked wearing only a robe.
“I’ll be there in a second, I just have to finish this.”
… 10 minutes later …
I walked into the bedroom and she was on top of the covers wearing just a bra and panties that way I could see what I’d been missing.  I could also see she’d been waiting for a while by the way she was curled on her side, holding a pillow.

“You blew it.” she says.
“How did I blow it if I didn’t know?”
“You knew.”
“I didn’t know.”
“What didn’t you know, Chris?”
“I didn’t know you were going to look like this.”
“I always look like this!”
She had a way of wedging logic into our discussions.
“I meant with just your bra and panties on.”
“You mean, just my panties.” she says while tossing her bra to the floor.
Oh. My.  Was that an invitation?  

I never got used to that.  Her seduction skills were straight out of the Kama Sutra.  Really, she studied that book.  I was intimidated at times.  I never saw her naked unless she wanted me to.  She kept the mysteries of a woman in tact and at the same time, showed me all of her.  It was her trick, make me think I was in, then teach me a lesson when I start to take her for granted.
“Can I join you?” I ask.
“Of course, Chris.”
I stripped down to my boxers.  She looked on unimpressed.
I laid next to her and she covered her chest with her arms.  She whispered in my ear words that I won’t ever share mixed with the perfect tone, then turned her back to me. I was shunned.

I got up, walked to the dresser and lit 2 candles.  Always two.  One for her, one for me.  I grabbed the rubbing oil from the bathroom cabinet.  I returned to the bedroom to find her face down on the bed, waiting.  She knew I was trying to guess what she wanted.  I guessed right.  Full body massage.

I poured over every inch of her with my hands. But the lotion made her body stick to the sateen comforter.  I thought, “Come on!  Don’t blow this for me comforter!”
I removed the comforter and I poured my hands over her body again, the exact same way.  She responded with sounds of pleasure.  My hands became tired.  I kissed her then turned her to face me.
“Wait, Chris.  I’m not ready.”
“You’re not ready?  Why aren’t you ready?”
“You have to put me in the mood first.”
“Oh, that’s right.” she said laughing, “I forgot about that.”
She laughed while she grabbed me by the face and kissed me.  There it was, my invitation.

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