There’s a new sheriff around these parts. It’s Hot. Nobody says shit to Hot. When Hot walks by, you do not make eye contact. Hot double-parks in front of hydrants and steps on your mama’s tulip bed and you’d best look the other way. Hot dried the rain and got Slovakia on the Euro. Hot smiled once, the dinosaurs died. You get the point: Hot is a bad mammajamma.
Hot is the de facto safety word we’ve established in our household. It means a lot of things, though more often than not, it means nothing. It lives in that dubious DMZ bordering the dangerous, the unknown and the misunderstood.
The oven is hot, fact. Not always, but this is probably the one bedroom shanty into which Hot was born. Electrical outlets, open Drano bottles, rusty nails and dark alleys were the stuff Hot was raised on.
But somewhere in the formative years, Hot got wise. Like Peter Parker discovering his web slingers, it was only a matter of time before Hot mastered his powers. It was now Hot outside. Fried eggs are Hot. I ask Bub what’s in my coffee mug, yep, it’s a cup o’ Hot.
The first rule of Hot is that you always talk about Hot.
Hot was getting big. Hot was hot.
For better or worse, we started using Hot to our advantage. Not that Hot can be manipulated by simpleton parents, mind you—Hot is the Shizzy. We simply abetted the growth of the legend.
Daddy’s Ipod became Hot. The remote, cell phones, the camera, all very, very Hot. Daddy’s beer is practically the surface temperature of Venus. During bath time, Daddy’s penis is scorching, Mommy’s boobs active volcanoes.
But, like most powermongers, Hot got too big for his hotpants. He got lazy, careless, started slipping up, let himself go. A crumpled-up piece of wrapping paper was now hot. A clipped toenail, a Matchbox 20 CD and even a Choco Taco all passed for Hot.
It seems only a matter of time before they get to Hot. What will it be, the shower shank? The brick pillowcase? But until a word simple, catchy and monosyllabic enough stages a coup, in these parts revenge is still a dish best served Hot. We get Hot feet when nervous, and quitting is best done Hot Turkey. And it could be a Hot day in hell before that changes.