Heroes Gods and Monsters

         Outside the little house on Sterrat Street, the birds sang happily and the squirrels chattered at one another as they scurried from tree to tree. In this quaint setting, the only evidence of recent human activity lay in a knee high mound of dirt piled triumphantly at the end of the driveway.

         Beside this earthen monument rested a partly overturned little yellow dump truck, its back piled high with assorted twigs. One of the twigs had apparently been chosen to adorn the pinnacle of the previously mentioned structure, and it raised its wooden arms high, proud to be part of such an epic endeavor.

         The architect of said project was now inside the house, dirty knees and all. Like most little boys, Devon did not notice dirty knees or clothes, and if some adult had pointed them out, he would only have seen them as evidence of an afternoon’s hard work. So he sat there in front of the TV with little bits of the afternoon smudged all over his face, watching his favorite show.

         His legs were crossed beneath him and his blue eyes were as round as moons as he watched the screen. His chubby six-year-old hands gripped the khaki colored fibers of the rug he was sitting on. His lips parted slightly as he leaned forward and unconsciously held his breath. You see, this was the most exciting part of the show. The bad guy had captured the mayor and the good guy was stuck in a deep, dark pit somewhere. At midnight the bad guy would execute the mayor if the good guy couldn’t get there to stop him.

         The clock was counting down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. BANG! The good guy burst through the door and the little boy exhaled at precisely the same moment. Devon relaxed his body and rocked back from the screen. He should have known the good guy would get there in time. The good guy could get anywhere in time. He always did.

         Devon jumped up as the credits rolled across the screen. As he did, he gave a little side kick, and he laughed as an imaginary bad guy fell on his imaginary butt. Devon laughed again, a clear and joyful sound, as he prepared to fight a whole army of bad guys.

         His battle royal was interrupted by a loud crash from the kitchen. Devon thought he should investigate. He walked on his little feet down the hall and could hear his mom and dad in the kitchen. They were being loud, so he stopped where he was and listened.

         “I never said that, Kate!”

         “The hell you didn’t!”

         “Well you only hear what you want to hear then!”

         “Damn it! I’m tired of this shit!”

         “Well then, maybe you should get the hell out!”

         There was heavy silence and Devon saw his mom walk out of the kitchen and very shortly he heard the front door slam. The slamming door echoed for a moment and the quiet that followed was eerie and paralyzing. For a little while Devon was too afraid to move, but curiosity got the better of him and he started walking toward the kitchen again. He was within a few steps of the door when he saw his dad emerge. His dad did not seem to see him. The man walked right past Devon and headed toward the den. Devon followed him, hoping his dad would smile and say that everything was OK.

         The little boy watched his dad lean back in the recliner, and flip on the sports channel. Devon thought that his dad had a weird look on his face, and so he decided not to try and join his dad in the chair. He didn’t want to get yelled at, so he just stood there in the door of the den waiting to be invited. He had to stand there for a long time before his dad finally looked over and saw him. His father stared at him strangely. Devon didn’t know what to do, so he stared at his dad and his dad stared back at him.

         “What?” his father barked.

         Devon couldn’t find an answer to that question, so he just blinked.

“Go play in your room.” his Dad ordered.

         Devon wanted to listen but his legs wouldn’t work. He blinked his big blue eyes again.

         “I said, ‘Go play,’” his father reiterated, and it appeared for a second as if the man was going to rise out of his chair.

         Devon decided that his dad getting out of the chair would be a bad thing, so he ran down the hall to his room. In obedience to his father’s ‘Go play’ command, Devon headed straight for his toy box and started pulling out things from inside. His small mouth was pursed and his face was all business.

         He divided his toy cars and trucks into two piles. He did the same with his army men. He found a couple of stuffed animals. A ratty looking bear went to the left and a big gray elephant to the right. Marbles? They would work too. Some went in one pile and some went into another. Devon knew that marbles could make nifty cannon balls.

         When he was finally done, and the troops were set up on both sides, he was ready to begin his pre-planned Armageddon. Of course, the troops led by the one-armed GI Joe would win, but that would not stop the troops led by the metal dinosaur from trying.

         Devon was right in the middle of making sound effects for a big explosion when he heard a door shut. He jumped up happily, thinking that his mom had come home. Devon left the battle field and ran to the front door. His mom was not in the living room, so he called out to her, “Mom!” His little voice was so happy.

         When he got no answer, Devon looked out the front window in time to see his dad’s truck pulling out of the driveway. He watched the right rear tire flatten his dirt tower. "Dad was leaving?", he wondered, "Where was mom?"

         The little boy rushed from room to room, yelling for his mom. He ran through the living room first, then the dining room. Devon stopped cold when he reached the kitchen. It looked like the scene of some gruesome crime. He saw red spaghetti sauce pooled in the middle of the floor. The overturned pot was laying in the center of the puddle. Spatters of red adorned the refrigerator and stove. Devon wondered if the mess was what his parents were mad about. It was a big mess. Devon thought it was a bigger spill than the time he tipped over a whole bottle of sprite.

         The boy looked down at his feet. The red goop was perilously close to his white socks. He thought about reaching out and touching it with his toe but decided against it. He skirted the mess and found a kitchen towel. He placed it over the puddle, but the little rag did not cover the mess. He thought for a bit and then went to the linen closet and found three big towels. He placed them over the puddle and the pot. He smiled to himself. He had covered the biggest part of the mess. Only the spatters could be seen, but they were little and he thought they would probably not upset his mom or dad. He thought that his mom could probably clean the spatters right up. Devon felt proud of himself. He thought that his mom and dad would be proud too.

         But that reminded him, he could not find his mom or dad. He looked around the kitchen again hoping he would see them. He had never been alone before. He was scared all of a sudden, and he started to cry, but it caught in his throat when he remembered how smart he was for fixing the mess and how happy his mom and dad would be when they got home. He choked down another sob and hiccupped.

         Another thought occurred to him. He hadn’t eaten yet. Devon thought his mom and dad would be super happy to know he could make his own supper! Devon felt that making your own supper was as good and brave a thing to do as defeating an army of bad guys. Suddenly, he felt brave and grown up. He attacked the peanut butter and jelly valiantly, pretty much destroying a whole loaf of bread in the process, but what was left did strangely resemble a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

He took his supper into the living room. That way, he could look through the window and know right away when his mom or dad came home. He plopped down on the old, brown love seat opposite the window, and noticed for the first time the tinges of pink, purple and red that decorated the horizon. "Uh oh", he thought. It was getting dark. Devon was scared of the dark.

         He sat there though, bravely munching his sandwich and drinking his soda as darkness crept on like some devilish monster. It seemed to be stalking the little house on Sterrat Street, intent on surrounding and enveloping it. Devon could hear the clock ticking on the wall and the locusts start to sing outside. He shrunk back into the couch seeking comfort and wondered if his mom or dad would be home before the darkness got to him.

         Devon shivered and he started to cry again, but he remembered his show and how the good guy always got there in time. Heroes always got there in time on TV. It was the bad guys and monsters that were always too late. He sniffed, feeling a little reassured. He felt that his mom and dad wouldn’t let him down.

         Dutifully, he gazed out the darkening window, munching his tattered peanut butter sandwich. He was a little boy, watching for a headlight, and waiting for a hero.






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Do you think Mom or Dad showed up or did darkness find Devon all alone? How does the story end in your mind? Are they heroes? Monsters? Something else?

When all is said and done, parents are like divinity to their small children. They provide the things necessary for life, security, and safety. More people should remember that.