His fingers are tight on the controls, he’s fidgeting with his fingers, it’s getting intense, the bad guy has been spotted on screen, he twists the hand held device, misses the object, his character dies, he loses, begins to cry, tosses the gadget across the room, gives his granny who is minding him an awful fright, where do the ideas come from. She waits till he goes to the bathroom, examines the box, over eighteens only, violent scenes, unsuitable for children under the age, he re enters the room, is a little calmer. She wants to raise the idea with his mother, but is afraid to open her mouth, they might send her away, well, that’s what they do these days when the elderly interfere, well, she’s getting doddery they say.
The twist before the mirror, she pouts, is my ass big in that, her friend just laughs, they are both under ten, but they are getting in on the act, their mothers call it confidence, it’s what the experts say, a good impression of one self is so important, what do the hungry children think of that, impressions. The response from mother, their confidence they say, we can’t do anything to undermine it. It’s the repeat dose, so repeated, everyone has the exact opinion, leaving no doubts, giving comfort to all and sundry, at least your getting that bit right, while they reach for their tranquilizing medication, only three left, must get a prescription for the weekend, suppose it’s the same as the junkie, just a little neater and more respectable, the prescriber wore a suit and had credentials on the wall, while the other dealer, well, in the dark light it was hard to read his face, where do they get their ideas from.
Solomon sighed, they said the same in Rome all those years ago, this God thing is just another of their helpless idols, look what he has done for them, filled them with hope, nothing more. History proved otherwise, but at least we have the remains of the old empire, reminders of their follies, imagine it, they had it all once, now they have nothing.