Alvin looked out the window. Everything was peaceful and everyone was happy.

“Boring isn’t?” Alvin said to himself. Suddenly he had a brilliant idea. He had heard that girls were made out of sugar and spice. And he was made out of snails and puppy dog tails. Well then! He would make something that wouldn’t make the world so peaceful.

He would call it: Doom. The word didn’t exist yet, but Alvin liked the sound of it. He mixed grass, his hamsters droppings, dirt, blood, vinegar, gasoline and many other things into a vat. It began boiling and bubbling. Fire spurted from the vat, and then and was calm. Suddenly an avalanche of horrible things began pouring out of the vat. Pills, cans, bottles, syringes, a plant, white powder. They began spreading over the earth.

The peace and happiness was dying. Alvin’s work of Doom was taking over. Pain grew, death swept over homes. With it came a drive for power, money and control. Almost all happiness was poisoned.

Alvin didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He didn’t want this to happen. But he had created it. When he left the earth, something else began to infect the lives everywhere: depression and suicide.

Alvin was just a child. How was he supposed to know what he had done? No one knew what he had done. No one that is, except for you and I. But don’t tell anyone. The two of us have to forgive Alvin.