I almost just murdered a 7 year old in Circle K. It takes a lot to set me off. I try not to have a temper. I try to give grace to others, because I have had so much grace shown to me. I have a lot of kids in my family. I am used to children climbing all over me, hitting me when I’m not looking, and making all types of ridiculous noises. I am patient with them. I know what it’s like to do and say things at inappropriate times. I do that a lot, but what this kid did made me wanna kill him and his mom.
I do not know this kid, but I am pretty sure his name is Timmy. He looked like a Timmy. Timmy is about 4 feet tall and is a lot paler than I am. He is one of those people, who’s hair is the exact same color as his skin. His 2 front teeth are the 2 largest parts of his body, and they are also the same color as his skin and hair. Timmy is skinny. He didn’t look malnourished, but he looked like he gets sick a pretty good bit. We didn’t really talk. We communicated, but did not talk.
I was standing in-line behind Timmy, his sister, and his mom. They all looked alike, same skin, same hair. They were buying 6 Icees, 6!!! We aren’t even supposed to be having 6 people around each other at one time right now, and this little merry little band of Polar Pop buyers were buying 6 large Icees at once. Talk about hoarding resources. At this point, I was starting to become pretty upset.
Timmy seemed like a well behaved kid. His mom paid for all 6 Icees. Each person grabbed 2 Icees a piece, with Timmy, picking up the last 2. As he turned around, Timmy did the only unforgivable thing in the world to me right now. He coughed…
Both of his hands were full, and this little cheese colored crumb-snatcher coughed within about 7 feet of me. I am not a judgy person. My history and path demand me to point any judgement I have of others toward a mirror to reflect squarely back on myself, but this kid just didn’t get it.
I did not know how to respond. I had so many thoughts and pressures enter into my brain when he coughed.
You may say, “Bardin, cut the kid some slack. There are a million different reasons a child who looks like he just got over the Spanish Flu is coughing during the greatest infectious disease catastrophe of our lifetime.”
Maybe I am overreacting, but I don’t think so. Here let me shed some light on the problem.
I currently live with dad and his wife of 56 years, my mother dearest. My dad and I have had some great adventures. I have so many stories where my dad has starred as my hero. Like so many others, I have family members who check so many of the risk factors associated with COVID-19. The chief among these is my dad.
I do everything I can to protect him from COVID-19. I bathe in hand sanitizer when I leave the house, when I’m driving , when I get to my destination, when I get back into my car, when I’m driving home, when I get home, before getting out of my car, when I get out of my car, before walking into the house, and, finally, when I get back into the house. My hands are starting to develop crevices. They hate me. My fingers are to the point that they don’t like touching each other.
People say the Grand Canyon formed from rushing water. I disagree. Based on what my hands are looking like right now, I’d say God just poured a big bottle of hand sanitizer on the earth. Eventually it couldn’t take the dryness anymore, and it split into the Grand Canyon. I used to have a very short life-line on my palm. Now, I have a life-canyon. Sometimes, I wish I could jump in it.
I’ve always wanted to be a serial killer. I know you are thinking that sounds bad but hear me out. One of my great heroes is Dexter from the Showtime series of the same name. He’s a serial killer who only kills really bad people. I love this about him. I find myself feeling homicidal on the regular. What better way to stop “seeing red” than to handle it like Dexter, by researching, kidnapping, and killing other murderers. Dexter is so good at it, that he got is own TV show about it.
When I watch Dexter, I dream to be a serial killer, but I don’t want to be just any serial killer, especially not a serial killer who kills his whole family, mainly his dad, by giving him a virus. I do everything I can to keep this from happening. I see all these appreciation posts on Facebook. These are made showing appreciation for all our public servants and most specifically those in the medical field. They are all well deserved, but what about me?
I’m giving up a lot. I want someone to appreciate me. It doesn’t have to be some long Facebook post, but lots of times, it seems to be quite the opposite. I get a non-appreciation post in IRL. Dont understand? Here, let me explain.
After venturing out into a virus infested world to get a hair cut, I walked into my dad in the kitchen. I know you may be thinking, Bardin a haircut? getting a haircut is pretty close to suicide these days. Well, I was starting a new job. No way I was going in on my first day to be sent home to work from home with a moppy spread on top of my head. I had to do something about it. Judge me if you want to, my dad sure did.
I walked in the house, after getting chopped. As has become our custom in our family, we no longer greet each other with “how are you” or “good to see you”. Now, when the door opens, the first thing I hear is, “You put hand sanitizer on? Where you been? You put sanitizer on after you left?”
I answer positively every time. Even though, I’ve told my dad over and over that my main goal in life right now is to not murder him; he does not believe me. I expect this. I didn’t expect what happened next.
My dad was in the kitchen baking something. As I walked in, he said, “You look pale and sickly.”
The tone of his voice did not convey concern. I got defensive here, feeling like a diagnosis would mean certain disownment and cutting of family ties. I said, “No dad. I feel fine. I’m not pale (I’m always pale). I’m not sick. I got this terrible translucent skin from your bloodline. Thanks.”
He then proceeded to show me his tan…I digress
About this time, I could smell something very sweet smelling wafting through the air. I asked my dad, “What smells so good?”
Sometimes you should say nothing. My dad bought some cookie dough a few days ago. In total, he got 24 cookies worth of dough. I love cookie dough, a lot. Even when I cook cookies, I just barely cook them. I keep them gooey. In the few days, since Dad had bought his dough, I had eaten 5 cookies worth, so I was shocked, when my Dad responded to my question, by saying, “I’m cooking cookies, before you eat all the dough. I can’t buy anything without you eating it.”
By this time, if I wanted to continue to have any food provided to me by parents, I figured it would just be best for me not to talk anymore. So I turned around without responding. Immediately I felt my dad touching my freshly chopped hair. I am used to social distancing these days, so I kind of jumped when he started touching my hair. He told me to “be still and calm down”. I figured something was in my hair, and he was getting it out for me. What a nice guy! He was going to help me out, even though I had eaten 21% of his cookies. I was wrong.
After about 10 seconds of my dad touching my hair, for no particular reason that I can find, all he said was, “Your hair looks like crap.”
......Social distancing has been a lot of fun for all of us. I cant wait to see what shelter in place has in store.
I’m glad I get the chance to do what I can to protect those I love. My family and I run tight, so after that kid coughed, all I could see was me killing the people I love. After my dad told me I was pale and sickly with crappy looking hair, all I could see was me killing the people I love.
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