Paradise Lost Indeed

When I was a kid I used to spend a lot of time playing in the woods at the edge of the neighborhood. I did very charming summery things like climb trees, follow deer paths, look at weird bugs, and get lost. Later on, Ivan and I (or possible Simon and I--I forgot which of us is which) went on numerous exploratory missions and set some very nice multi-seasonal picnics there. We named the landmarks. We took pictures. We discovered, christened, and quickly forgot the location of the rock Herman. It was like Eden. Granted, an Eden with a hell of a lot of bugs and suburbia encroaching on every border, but whatever, it was nice.

Now I find that this childhood paradise, this arboreal refuge, this flower-laden natural garden has harbored a dark secret all this time. A deadly secret. A secret no one could have imagined. Before the developer bought the land, before my parents bought the house, before I was even born, some jerk looked at the vernal landscape (which I suppose was, at the time, grassy disused farmland, but that's no excuse) and thought, "Now, this vernal landscape/ugly field looks like a great place to bury toxic waste!" Then he came up with another genius idea, which was, "Golly, now that we've buried toxic waste here, we should sell it to a developer so that people can build houses on it! Yesssss!" Then he did chest bumps with his buddies and they all lived happily ever after, cheating on their taxes and kicking puppies.

Until the government investigation. Suckers.

So I've been thinking, what can I blame on the slim possibility that I have been in some way affected by the contamination of a water source that I never used or by particles of lead dust that very likely never circulated in the air? Braces? Poor motor skills? No. Let's go for something bigger. This is it, people. THIS IS THE SOURCE OF THE ALIEN BABY SYMPTOMS. Surely nothing induces nausea like lead poisoning. Surely nothing breeds hunger like tromping around in a nuclear forest. Surely it is plausible that I might sustain a mysterious bruise from such a catastrophic, by which I mean rather minor, toxic waste spill, despite the fact that I was a couple hundred miles away at the time.

So you see the toxic waste spill in the ferny playground of my childhood is all for the best. In fact, thank goodness for the reckless irresponsibility of others. Let their thoughtless misdeeds be praised, until the government can gather enough evidence to PAVE OVER THEIR MORTAL LIVES.