We all have moments of clarity about life, for me this was one of them. My short chubby legs were hanging, covered in shit mind you, out the back of the window of the house until recently i called home. Inside the house was my neck and most of my shoulders, pinned down by an ancient window that probably weighed more than i do (which is impressive considering my love for flaky pastry).
"FUUUUUCK!" I scream to myself, since the inside of the house is currently a desolate wasteland.
"Well...this is exciting" I whisper to myself a moment later, alas still with no audience reaction. I manage to worm my way forward a little more to release the pressure on my chest. I take a deep breath and try and wiggle forward but my protruding stomach prove problematic.
At least now im not at risk of suffocating, just very uncomfortable. I look around what remains of my home and think back to what occured to make it this way. The cruel mistakes i made in pursuit of a sweet sensation that led to the destruction of my life as i know it.
I think its true what psychologists say, that we do try to black out the darkest moments of our lives from memory. I am currently succeeding, trying to recall to the events of that night is like putting a flashlight into the mouth of a black hole. I want to be sucked into a black hole to escape the life i have created for myself.
Can I remember? Can I? Or have i charred the memories from the back of my mind, unable to recollect the most horrible evening of my life?
I remember...I remember
Doughnuts. I thought to myself, I want to learn how to make Doughnots. And why not? This delicious pastry can't be that much of a secret if Besse Eaton, Dunkin Donuts and Honey Dew can all master it. I wobble towards the kitchen in search of a cookbook to give me insight on my glazed gluttony.
"What are you looking for Sweetie?" My mother whispers in her magical voice.
"Just poking through some cookbooks Ma" I say
"Ok, well let me know if you want my help with anything" She sings back to me, smiling. I love my mother, because she knows I am looking to make something sweet and it doesn't bother her. I am currently on the verge of being obese, my chubby fingers grip the pages of Betty Crocker, and my mother doesn't care. It's not that she doesn't want me to be unhealthy, far from it, she knows the the medicine i take for Asthma has an effect on my metabolism. Or so she tells herself, unwilling to prevent me from self-destruction. I'm getting slightly out of breath as i dig through other cookbooks, not finding any with a real solid doughnut recipe. All i can find is a recipe for doughnut balls, munchkins really.
"You find anything munchkin?" Mother asks. Well i guess that munchkins will have to do.
"Yeah...Ma, do you mind If i make cook some doughnut holes?" I beg
"Honey, if you promise not to eat them all yourself. You gotta share some with me" Once again...i love my mother. I really do, i feel as if i was one of the luckier children on earth. I have two parents who have been married for 25 years and still tell each other they love one another every chance they get. I have a mother who dotes on me but is always willing to give me help when i need it. I have a father who is brilliant and always working hard to insure i have a better life than him. I am the very definition of a spoiled middle class brat...and i love it.
"Of course!" I giddily reply. Starting to mix together the ingredients i notice it calls for a deep fryer, which i dont have. "Darn" I say. I read further and see that you can manage without a deep fryer if you use a lot of Crisco on a skillet over medium. It calls for about a cup, which seems a bit excessive to me. I read the directions again and it does indeed call for a lard of the chunky white fat, which i gleefully scoop onto the skillet and turn the stovetop on high. I then begin to examine the other ingredients; powdered sugar, brown sugar, granulated sugar...hmm, sounds good so far. I begin to seach the cupboards for flour and decide wether or not i want to make chocolate or just glazed. I cant seem to locate the dutch choclate so i decide on...
Oh...that can't be good.
"Ma?" I feelby reply, approaching the stovetop with caution
"Yes?" My mother answers, detecting the fear in my voice
"Where is the fire extinguisher?" I whisper
"WHAT?" My mother bolts out of her seat in the dining room and runs around the corner into the kitchen to see my disaster. Unbeknownest to be the pan of grease had erupted to to a shooting column of flame. I hadn't read the directions and realized that grease is very much a compustable agent and must be kept at a low simmer. The flames are almost reaching the ceiling, but luckily they are not coming out of the pan on the sides. That is untill my mother grabs it and runs for the sink.
Before i can react she has turned the water on and in that instant everything seemed to occur in slow motion. I shout out "No" to tell her that grease fires can only be put out by smothering our fire extinguishers. But she has reacted instinctively, as any good mother should. I didn't know water could burn untill that night. I watched as the flaming fountain poured across the counter, across the floor, across...her. She ran into the hall leading to the outside and stumble on a pile of old newspapers kept there to reflect on historic moments of the past.
All past historic moments engulf in a towering inferno as my mother cries out in pain and fear. She runs outside of the house. I am alone...surrounded by a sea of fire that is laughing at me as it crackles. I slowly allow myself to take it all in, probably within a matter of seconds. I can do nothing, there isn't a fire extinguisher in sight. What have I done? I think to myself, the same thing my mother shouted out to be as she ran out of the house to put out the flames on her arms. Before she can return i run upstairs to alert my brother of this slight problem.
I am weeping openly as I tell him
"Brian! The House is on fire!" He smirks at first, beliving this some acting prank. I don't blame him, as a child i would lie pathologically to convice both him and myself of things untrue. He knew after two seconds that this was not a lie, there was truth in my horror. He bolted past me and ran down to the kitchen.
"Holy Shit!" I heard him downstairs repeating again and again. I slumped in the office chair as smoke began to waft up the stairs. Tom Cat jumped into my lap. The Pets, i thought to myself, I have to save the pets. Immediatly i grabbed tomcat and ran outside to my parents car which was mercifully unlocked seeing we live in the middle of nowhere. I toss Tom Cat inside and run back inside and collect our dog Sandy, our other cat TC and Spot. I can't find anyone from my family anywhere, they are gone. After bringing TC to the car i spy a car driving down the street and risking everything and run to the street in front of it.
The last thing i see is blinding lights