Standing at the precipice a cool breeze blocks the warmth from my face.  Coffee in hand the heart rate raises unexpectedly, a trickle of sweat forms upon the rim of my brow; my face is flush and mottled red.  Fear; fear rises inside as an uneasy feeling erupts inside my gut.  I must travel these cold steps towards the gates of hell but my feet appear to have become frozen.  My knees tremble and knock as general weakness overtakes the ability to move.

I know I must go, I know I must make this journey into domestic bowels.  No person wishes for this, I never asked for it nor did I volunteer this assignment yet here I stand, chill down my spine, a tight feeling in my throat, and sweat trickling down my face and back, knees locked together like a Friday evening bankers vault.  Where are the troops?  Where is my back up, my support system comprised of willing individuals to help over take the monster that lay dormant in the dark cavern? Where are they? They are nowhere to be found, they have abandoned ship, left their posts for more enjoyable endeavors.  A Army of one, alone I stand, and a stand I will make. 

It’s not the journey mind you, I have made these travel many times in the past.  It’s like being hit by an electric fence. You know the fence is hot, you know it’s going to hurt, but you also know you have to get through the fence when no gate is present.  So with all that knowledge each time you get hit by the electricity it doesn’t hurt any less yet in some strange fashion it doesn’t seem quite so bad.

But this time it’s different.  I know it shouldn’t be yet it is.  The ball of fire in the sky has come and gone many times since last traversing this trail.  The wind coming from its belly has a particular smell that brings worry and fear to my soul.  It also brings a tear to my eye as it stings the senses. 

Again I stare downward, into its depths, a sip of coffee a deep breath, I exhale stand up straight and start my journey.  The breeze still present brings a more pungent sickly sweet scent to my senses, I continue forward.  A few more stairs and a silhouette of the creature is in the distance; its massive shadowy mound lying dormant for now.  It has not been awakened and that is a good thing for to wake this monster will bring nothing but heartache to all who challenge its existence.  Reaching the bottom of the stairs I find the temperature is cooler, moist almost sticky.  Ducking under a low lying beam the monster is suddenly before me! It’s large and I swear its moving, different colors, patterns and textures make up this abnormality of existence. 

I work my around it quietly, for on the other side stands the Machines of Justice. The mound guards the Machines of Justice ensuring no one can ever use them for what they are intended.  By growing in size when needed the mound can completely block ones path from reaching the Machines of Justice ensuring certain failure to all who try. If I reach the machines of justice successfully I can slowly terminate this life form without disturbing it from its slumber.  It’s a risky move for sure, but effective none the less.  I have had great success with this maneuver in the past and since there is no back up coming it’s all or nothing.  The smell is toxic and starts affecting my breathing, making it shallow and labored, at one point I begin to feel light headed.  I pace myself slowly picking pieces of armor from the monsters back.  The smelliest ones first then other pieces of color and texture are the next to meet their demise inside the Machine of Justice.

While focusing on the task at hand the monster moves! Hard to the left it rolls but I counter with a receptacle to the side! Hustling back to my left I grab a large section of the beast hurling it with great force into the Machine of Justice! Yes!! Success!! The monster, realizing it is out matched has laid down flat allowing me to finish it off by pulling it apart creating smaller piles for processing!  I have triumphed! I have slain the beast with little to no fight at all! The Machines of Justice hum a song exalting my superiority over this inferior adversary! I will rise up the Hero once again! I turn arms in air shouting towards the heavens above; YOU SHALL NEVER DEFEAT ME!!

Dad? 

I turn to see my 7 year old staring at me with a befuddled look upon his face holding another basket of laundry to add to the pile.

 

The monster lives again…..

“And that’s how you turn the simple act of doing laundry into a short story about a fatherly super hero who battles evil.”

My work here is done…..