“Allergic to the sun"

By Jason Catizone

An allergy of a most dreadful kind

Tony Sanrido was a rather peculiar fellow. Despite being a towering figure at 6’5”, and even though he was well past the age of 30, he still had not successfully conquered his childhood fear. Yes, Tony Sanrido remained terrorized by that blazing ball of light in the sky, more commonly known as - the sun.

His phobia commenced at the tender age of six, when he was viciously sunburned from head to toe after having spent an entire day at the beach. Although he had enjoyed the maritime outing with his whole family, Tony was the sole individual to have received such a spanking from the sun. He was also the only member of the family to have refused an application of sunscreen before said outing at the beach, but - alas! - Tony had failed to make that connection. In defiance of the facts, he had instead fallen prey to a much more sinister explanation: the sun itself was out to inflict him personally with countless plagues and diseases. And no matter what others said or (vainly) attempted to explain, he himself remained thoroughly convinced that he was, in fact, allergic to the sun.

And so, young Tony withdrew into the shadows. He refused to venture outdoors, for fear of the sun’s punishing him, and chose to just remain inside where he felt “safe from the vengeful wrath of mine enemy.” 

His neighborhood friends tried to lure him out of the house on numerous occasions, but the frightened lad simply would not budge. The bright-eyed children used all kinds of excuses to try and get him outside: birthday parties... free candy... surprises... a “flying alligator that was just down the street!!!”  But each and every one of those heartfelt attempts at socialization - ended in utter failure. Tony simply could not be persuaded to leave the sheltered confines of his home.

The neighborhood kids almost did succeed one time, though. It was a blustery Thanksgiving day, and all the boys on his street had gathered together for a game of football just down the road from his house. When they realized that they only had nine players - and thus, an unequal number of participants - they selected their plumpest athlete to march to Tony’s house and demand that he join their game; otherwise, said chubby sports player would steal the large sheet of wood which leaned against his bedroom window and helped repel the venomous emanations of the sun. The young boy with the unspeakable allergy was so shaken by the threat that he immediately started getting dressed for the big game, although quite begrudgingly. He longed to back down, but with a looming ultimatum of such terror hanging over him, he knew that there was simply no way for him to do so. And thus, he finished getting dressed, and strode down the hallway, sounding forth a deep, deep sigh. But just as he was opening his front door and about to exit the clung-to security of his house, the sun broke through the clouds and shot him a bedazzling stream of golden luminosity; the gleaming brilliance caught his wristwatch, reflected its shining mockery straight into his eyes, and - well, that was that. No football game for Tony.

When he was fifteen, he had nearly delivered himself from his obsessive fear of the big ball of light; that was, until he went on that infamous road trip with his family. Things had started out beautifully, but after just a few hours of coasting the paved ground beneath, the aging family car started making horrid noises and jerks. In a brave attempt to combat his mortal foe, Tony himself offered to leave the car in order to find the nearest gas station. He wound up getting severely lost, and - as one might have guessed - incredibly sunburned. It was on that very same day that the glowing red teenager declared that he would never set foot outside of his home again - except for absolute necessities. 

Tony’s parents later bequeathed an immense load of treasure to him when they passed on from this world, and it’s well indeed that they had left their son such a rich inheritance. Had they not done so, Tony would have been homeless in a flash, for it is a matter of utmost difficulty to hold down a job when one refuses to leave their house for any reason except “to amass more victuals of sustenance,” or in laymen’s terms: to shop for groceries.

Alas! - that dreaded task of acquiring necessary foodstuffs. That was indeed the chief menace to Tony Sanrido’s life of exclusivity. When the odd giant did venture out to gather his required morsels, he really was quite the sight to behold. Dressed in a bright, puffy orange biohazard suit - and holding on to a huge black umbrella with both hands - Tony resembled a gigantic pumpkin, out for a leisurely, yet highly animated, stroll in the sun. Of course, the looped audio announcement which blared forth from the speaker strapped to his back, declaring, “An allergy to the sun have I!”, certainly didn’t lessen the shocking impact of his unique appearance. He was quite a sight to gaze upon indeed.

Tony lived by himself, as one might have been able to deduce without terrible difficulty. After all, when a person accuses friends who invite him outside as being, “nothing more than undercover agents of the celestial foe,” it is rather easy to understand that such a person will not enjoy many close friendships in life. Especially when said individual pelts alleged “undercover agents” with eggs which have well ripened to the point of rottenness. No man is an island, but that didn’t stop Tony from surrounding himself with an ocean of exclusivity.

It was a sad life, but - at least in Mr. Sanrido’s imagination - it was a safe life. 

After all, Tony reasoned, “When a blazing furnace of fire in the sky is out to get you, there really are few places to hide indeed. And the sooner one realizes that, the better.” 

© Jason Catizone, May 2021                  

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