February 7, 2010

• What does the moon think about?

  “Hi” came a small voice from the other side of the large desk.  I leaned toweringly over it and saw a small person standing there with large, innocent cartoon-like eyes starting back at me.
  
  “Yesss?” I prompted inquisitively.
  
  “Hello. I am your inner child. I am here to ask why you aren’t very silly anymore.”
  
  “Eh, beat it kid,” I said without amusement. “I got work to do.”
  
  “How could you say that to your inner child?” the small boy said, his eyes swelling and water noticeably forming at their lower ridges.
  
  “Well I don’t really believe you’re my inner child since I don’t think I have an inner child,” I condescended to say. ”Besides,” I went on hesitantly, “if you’re my inner child, how come you’re outside me? Eh, how about that.”
  
  “Rather silly, isn’t it sir!” the child beamed in reply.  “You should conform most to the silly things you see in life.  That’s what’s fun to do.”
  
  “Kid, I’m swimming in a pile of undone filing reports.” 

  “Did you have to take swimming lessons to learn to do that?” 

  I lowered the paper that had been centimeters from my face and glared at the kid, considering that I would have laughed at that joke ten years ago.  What a long time it had been since those days.

  “You know,” I came to say with a sigh, “that’s a little bit funny.  But I’m thirty now, and that’s not funny anymore.”
  
  “I don’t know much about numbers,” the child admitted sadly, “do they get more powerful when they are bigger? So that they don’t let you laugh at things anymore?”
  
  “Something like that,” I responded, distracted again.

  “Hmmm,” the child let out, a touch sarcastically, “I thought that one was the strongest number.”
  
  “Yeah,” I admitted, thinking of college football, which was a very important matter, “Well who’s coming up with these rules?”
  
  “Someone must be,” the child replied, grinning. 

  “Look kid, what do you want?” I barked, agitated. “Like I said, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “I want you to stop sinning.”
  
  “Sinning? How am I sinning?” I yelled infuriated.

  “The Bible says adultery is a sin.”
  
  “Adultery? What on earth do you mean, how am I committing adultery? I’m not even married!”
  
  “Adultery: the sin of becoming an adult,” the small boy asserted with extreme gravitas. ”It’s right there in the Bible.” 

  My eyelids drooped down low at this very ridiculous comment.  Realizing that arguing with the kid was not going to work, I stooped to his level and slowly sighed the question, “Ok kid, what do you want me to do?”
  
  “Why, there are all kinds of things to do!  Look around you.  It’s a beautifully snowy day outside, let’s go build an igloo! We could invent a word and tell people what it means so they can start using it.  Invent a boardgame, for heaven’s sakes!  Challenge people on the street to play rock-paper-scissors!”
  
  A moment of silence went by.

  “The possibilities are endless!” he emphasized.  “When was it that you started believing seriousness was such a good thing in humans!  For all you care, you could just sit there and imagine having a conversation with your inner child.”
  
  At this comment I snapped back to reality at my office, suddenly realizing I was sitting quietly at my desk, as I glanced at the empty room around me.

  • 1:17 pm
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