The Monster in My Life

My dad gave me my first torch on my thirteenth birthday. I'm not British, so I'm not talking about a flashlight--I mean he gave me a stick of oak wrapped in rags and cooking oil. He said that I was reaching the age where I was a man, and that if any monsters ever came around, I was old enough to help fight them off with the rest of the neighborhood.

Now, I don't live in a Transylvanian village or in Salem in the 1600s. I just live in a small town in southern Ohio. So I was understandably underwhelmed by his gift. But that was my dad: some kids get razors or grandpa's pocket watch, I got a torch.

"See, all the men in the neighborhood have them. Well, some have torches, others got pitchforks and shovels and stuff."

I had to will my eyes not to roll. "Gee, dad...this is great. Do I get the silver bullets when I turn 18?"

"Aw now son, don't be a wise ass," answered my father, rubbing my hair like a like a crystal ball. "There's no such thing as werewolves."

Later that night my friend Jody and I were hanging out, listening to the "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves" soundtrack. He asked me why that stick was lying in the corner.

"Man you're lucky," he said after I told him, "My dad just gave me an ass beating when I turned thirteen. I don't even think he knew it was my birthday." Jody then lit a cigarette and sat thoughtfully in my windowsill, looking up at the moon.

"It's a sticky piece of wood. I wanted Mario Kart."

"Look out this window, Ryan. What do you see?"

"I see some trees...some cars....couple of houses."

"Wrong. Well, right, but still...wrong. That's the tree that we used to climb up and play Tarzan. That's Dean Harper's truck right there. He attaches the plow to it every winter and clears our driveways. And those aren't just houses, they're homes."

"Yeah, whatever dude. I've lived here my whole freaking life, I know all that crap."

"That's right, you have lived here your whole life. And you're missing the point. Those are our neighbors in those little homes down there. And every one of them wakes up every day, goes to work, and comes home to people they love. They don't ask for much, just a happy, simple little life, and a down payment on a plot up in heaven.

"These are the people that visited when your mom was in the hospital; we see them every year at the block party cookout. We grew up with these folks and they're our family."

"You're queer, Jody."

"But look past those homes, these crisp rural streets, look farther into the night, beyond our towns. See the darkness out there, tucked away in the horizon? Can you see it?"

"I can't see shit."

"Yeah. Chances are, there's nothing out there. That's just a plain old night sky. Or maybe there is something there. Something hiding and waiting in the foul shadows of the night. Maybe someday our quaint little neighborhood will be threatened by the forces of shadow."

Jody stood up from the windowsill, and draped his arm over my shoulders.

"And when these terrors from hell do come to threaten our innocent little lives, when they come challlenging us on the field of battle, we will meet them with honor. But who will light the way, Ryan? Who will take us to the monster's doorstep? You? Me? Great men are only forged by trying times, so we may never know.

"But I'll tell you this: it helps a hell of a lot to have a torch handy."

He put on his Ninja Turtles cap and ducked out my window, dissapearing into that good night.

I never saw him again.

He was such a lame ass I decided to make friends with this kid down the block named Jeff, because he had Mario Kart and this super sweet four person adapter that you could hook four controllers into. Man it was cool! We'd stay up for like, hours. The first time I got drunk was playing that shit. I think Jody moved to like a school for weird kids and killed himself or something.

As for the torch? I fucking traded that thing to a dumb ass fourth grade for some sweet Power Rangers Pogs.