GUILTY PLEASURES

Everyone was fast asleep in their rooms. I shut the door quietly with an uncertain resolve. The moment I'd been waiting all day long had finally arrived. I turned towards the TV and switched it on. The screen flickered into life as it flooded the relatively dark room with its bright rays.I turned down the volume rather hastily lest it alerted either of my folks. Once all the arrangements had been made,I settled down with my eyes firmly glued on the monitor.

A voluptuous woman started talking testily.I strained to hear what was being said but it didn't matter all that much as I had been through the rigmarole quite a number of times. Even then,some of the excitement was lost with the somewhat muted delivery. I cranked up the volume such that most of what was being said was audible. Tiny beads of sweat glistened all over my face as I looked on towards the monitor with unwavering concentration.I was most definitely in a state of heightened perception.

Most of the introduction was done when my hands got to work. My face became flush with excitement as I continued to peer into the monitor. I tried to take in as much as possible because every single frame was vital. Atleast for me.....

As time went on, my hand movements became highly erratic.It was almost impossible for me to co-ordinate my movements with what I was seeing. Soon my fingers flayed all over the place...back and forth,sometimes to the right,sometimes to the left.It was safe to say that I was almost delirious with passion.

I could no longer keep up with the frenetic pace at which my hands seemed to be moving. My fingers felt tired and I let out my first pant for the night.

It isn't going to take me much more time, I thought to myself.

I should have stopped then and there but I had committed myself too far in to throw in the towel towards the climax of the night.

"Hem,hem.” Someone cleared their throat behind me.Startled, I looked behind anxiously.

A pair of angry eyes greeted mine.

I had been so enthralled with myself that I didn't hear Dad let himself in.

"I should have bolted the door....." , I thought to myself.But I was too eager: to start,to please myself.

"Stupid,stupid,stupid...",I cursed myself.

Dad looked towards the monitor and then back at me.I looked down somewhat shamefully.

What else could one have done ; especially after being caught red-handed.I couldn't possibly feign ignorance over the whole matter. I hope Dad understands. Even he must have done something terribly stupid back in his teenage years.

Marshalling my courage I looked up timidly only to gaze down again as Dad spoke out.

"Son,which part of "not using the playstation to play Tomb Raider after 11 pm" didn't you get?"

It's going to be a long night , I thought to myself...

when I was a kid, I had an infatuation with fire. I think it was a fairly healthy obsession. I could stare at a candle forever. Boys like fire. It's natural. I wanted to be a fireman. I didn't set fire to cats or anything destructive.

One time I was left home by myself. It was raining outside and very cold in the house and I thought I'd pretend to be a grown-up and start a fire in our wood burning stove in the kitchen. Bad idea. One of the main things my mother would always say before leaving the house was, "Don't touch the fireplace or play with fire." Whatever, man !

So as a child, I know that paper, dead leaves and wood are good at burning. I throw some logs in there and some newspaper. The newspaper burns out, and the wood? Nothing. Didn't catch. Solution? More newspaper!

So I pile in the newspaper and sure enough, one big flaming piece comes flying out onto the floor. Now, I freak out thinking that the paper will hit the table cloths and go up in flames. What do I do? The smart option would have been to use the poker thing and shove it under the stove or try and get it back in the stove and let it burn itself out. But as a mildly retarded eleven year old, I pick up the burning sports section and run like hell. Brilliant!

So I run to the nearest exit with the paper held high above my head. The problem with the nearest exit was that there were clothes kept to do the laundry. So now, not only am I running with burning ash flying all over the place, I'm running through the most flammable room in the house. I get to the door, open it up, and throw the paper into the rain. OK. Crisis averted. So I calm down and head back into the house, with a pretty nice burn on my hand. Nothing too bad, I run some cold water over it, then realize I've got some cleaning up to do.

I go back into the kitchen and find all the ash. Luckily, nothing was burned. I put out what was still burning in the fireplace. I triple check my torch run to glory for any remaining ash. If my mom or dad find any evidence of this, I'll be a dead man.

OK, house looks good. no evidence of this anywhere. Sweet. I'm going to get away with it. My parents get home later that evening, and the first thing my mom says is, "What's that smell? Were you making a fire?"

"Wha? No, God no. I would never disobey you dear mother! For, I merely lit a candle to soothe my senses whilst reading Goofus and Gallant!"

Sweet, she bought it! I'm in the zone! If only she knew, a mere two hours ago, I was very close to burning our humble abode to a pile of embers. An hour or so later, the entire family is eating dinner. My mother asks, "What's in your hair?"

"Huh?"

"There's something in your hair."

"No there's not."

"Yes there is. It's white!"

Mom comes in for a closer inspection. "It's singed! You singed your hair! You did try to start a fire!"

Indeed I did. And it was then I learned that no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to cover it up, my mom will always find out.

moms find out. Don't know how, but they find out. I believe that day was the last time I wanted to be a fireman. After that, I wanted to be a monkey. I've always wanted to be a monkey.

-picked this one from my archives! theres another post about to follow.