For I so Loved my Neighborhood . . .
A modern parable to enhance your understanding — of how some things make no sense at all.
by Arvin N. Prebost
THESE low-life kids in my neighborhood kept throwing trash in my yard. I have always wanted my neighborhood to be quiet, peaceful, green, and clean. I told them that littering was wrong and low-class, but they would not stop. So I took my own son, who is very well-behaved and respectful, and thrashed him good.
Did those kids stop throwing trash in my yard, when I showed them my beaten-up son, and told them that their trash was responsible for it? A few did, out of guilt, but most of the others still continue to throw trash in my yard, and now think I am pretty weird, to boot.
The few who did stop were initially afraid that I would thrash them too, but I told them that since I had thrashed my own son, my anger and sense of justice were satisfied. I told them to go out into the neighborhood, and tell everyone that I had thrashed my own son, so that they would not have to be thrashed. But if they don’t feel guilty, accept that I have thrashed my own son on their behalf, and, of course, stop throwing trash in my yard . . . well, I am going to boil them alive in a big cauldron that I just bought. . . not right now, but eventually. I will get them, I guarantee it!
I am a pretty serious fellow when it comes to justice. But, at the same time, I extend to these kids my forgiveness, if they will just accept that my son took the just punishment that they so richly deserved from me.
In this way I show my love for these kids — Black, White, rich, poor, male, female; it does not matter. My love has no limits. I am the father, the true father, that they don’t have. I proved that by thrashing my own excellent, innocent son on their behalf. Such is my love for this neighborhood, these kids.
And, of course, there’s my cauldron.
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