Using the cleaner of my two forearms, I brushed aside
the moist blond bangs plastered to my forehead and
exhaled cautiously. Raging oppressively overhead, the
sunlight started to bleach my squinted vision to the point
where it resembled the fever-induced, whiskey-sugar
medicated delirium common in my house during the
winter flu season. As the pale-canary hue began to bleed
into everything I saw, I decided to take my play to the
relative comfort of the front porch.

Climbing the three steps to the cement oasis, I flopped
onto a blue metal chair, its frigid surface instantly
numbing the backs of my arms and legs. In an act of
staunch defiance, a treasonous platoon of goose bumps
scurried like roaches beneath my flesh as my body
involuntarily shuddered.


Unable to handle the stomach-cramping chills, I escaped
back into the bludgeoning radiance of the sun. As the
warm rays basted my body, I suffered another cramp,
this one originating somewhere below the epicenter of
the initial one. This time, the sensation resembled a fist
squeezing raw Christmas cookie dough through the
patterned silver cone of a pastry tube. If I had known
anything about the natural process of childbirth or the
science behind baking cookies, I would have sworn that I
was trying to pass an entire pan of double chocolate-
chip offspring through my young bowels.

Seconds later, fire flared uncontrollably within the dark
boundaries of my Batman underwear as the cramp
continued clenching until every last morsel of dough was
expunged and an almost comforting warmth lapped at
my groin.