The Son

One day a boy was born. He was raised in a loving family, but shielded from the horrors of the outside world.

One afternoon as the boy bounced a ball off the wall of his home, he began to hear a jingle. It was the biscuit jingle.

The boy turned to see what was making the strange sound. He walked into the street and looked into the distance. He saw the faint outline of a white truck coming toward him. The boy began to walk toward the new, and strange object. The Biscuit Man laughed.

The boy continued to walk toward the speeding vehicle. The boy’s actions confused The Biscuit Man. He stopped in front of the boy.

The boy continued to stare. The Biscuit Man motioned for him to come closer. The Biscuit Man picked him up and set him in the passenger seat.

The Biscuit Man continued his rampage, running over people, animals, and the occasional politician. That evening when he returned to the boy’s home, he gave the boy a gentle kiss on the forehead and handed him a gift.

The boy walked inside to find his worried parents. They had spent the entire day searching for him and had forgotten to make dinner. The boy offered his parents his gift.

His mother took the gift and divided it among themselves. The boy devoured his share. His parents each took a bite and went silent as they stared into space. They fell onto the table. They had died. The gift was a biscuit. The biscuit was poison.

The boy didn’t understand what had happened. The boy was immune to the poison of the biscuits.

The doorbell rang. It was The Biscuit Man. The Biscuit Man took the boy away and raised him as his son.

Don’t play ball.