My car comes to a complete stop as I wait for the gaggle of children to waddle across the crosswalk. For a moment my mind slips back into a maternal mode. Since my lifestyle changes I have yet to think about hosting a parasite; I’m far too young and lack the empathy to care for a ting human being at this point in time. Nonetheless, today’s moment of parental instinct stopped my selfless clockwork to think about a little beast roaming my home.
I pictured myself at the prime age of twenty-five, comfortably living, decent job that gave me financial leniency, a kickass significant other to adventure with, and a kid who shared my eyes and nose. I imagined the first time I explained the history of gangsta rap to the little bugger and shared my favorite song with him. I saw his eyes sparkle as I replayed Skyrim for the seventieth time and lied to him about how the game was about me, and that he was the son of the Dragonborn. I can see myself with the monster in my lap watching Revenge of the Nerds and then me covering his eyes at the ungodly sight of eighties bush. I smile at the thought of me driving him to school while listening to The Smiths and Morrissey, explaining to him the difference in guitar riffs is how you tell them apart, just like my Mother did for me. I envisioned the first time the little shit gripped tightly on my hips while I took him on his first motorcycle ride; I pictured the child atop his Dad’s shoulder, laughing about nothing. I visualized me – HONK! A cars’ horn blared as I snapped back into reality. I revved my engine and took off past the billowy smog of my imagination.