creative writing · Humor

For the Freakin’ Birds!

I believe I was about 8 when I became the almost-victim of wild animal violence. I might have been older, but 8 seems like a pretty safe place to tell this story from.

It was a beautiful spring morning in Ohio. Way too early for any of my friends to be up, so I ran around my backyard by myself having the time of my life.  At that age, I still liked to play imaginary games. Often, I’d ride my bike up and down the street doing tricks and pretending I was the most talented motorcycle-riding-acrobat at the circus. On this day, given that I wasn’t allowed out of the yard,  I was an adventurer looking for treasure.

I  jumped over lava and barely escaped crocodiles all to get my hands around the Wand of Aurora. Only, it wasn’t a real wand. It was a yellow wiffle ball bat leaning against an old tree. Didn’t matter though. I dodged poisoned arrows, enraged cannibals, and snatched up the wand right as an earthquake broke the world in half. I raised it to the heavens and began to cast the most beautiful spell of redemption for my homeland and for the hearts and souls of its people. But, instead of opening my eyes to utopia, I saw the blood-thirsty eyes of a giant hawk swooping down on me!

Only, it wasn’t a giant blood-thirsty hawk. It was a regularly-sized blood-thirsty mama robin. And she was gonna kick my ass!

I didn’t know what I had done. From what I could see there wasn’t a nest in the tree and nothing had fallen to the ground. But what I did know was she was coming and no imaginary wand of whatever was gonna save me! I knew she was serious as she didn’t swoop down once, but 4 or 5 times as I bobbed and weaved my way to the back door of our house. With each attack of her tiny body, she screamed the most horrific sound, and the smacking and flapping of her wings only made it worse.

When I finally reached the back door it was locked! I damned my mother as I banged on the glass,  screaming and crying in terror.  I saw her walking in a dream-like state to let me in. She held her breakfast of diet Pepsi and a Salem cigarette in the same hand as she pulled the heavy glass door open. The last thing I remember seeing before pulling myself inside was that Mama Robin coming straight at me with devil eyes and an angry opened beak.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I picked myself up off the floor and screamed, “I’m being attacked out there by a bird and you don’t even care!”

Mom glanced outside, “I don’t see anything. I think you just imagined it.”

Well I’m here to tell you I didn’t imagine it! No matter how many years pass, I can still picture that bird coming at me. I still remember the fear that tingled in my legs when I realized that that bird was gonna peck me or bite me or smack me around with her nasty grey wings. It’s not something that’s constantly on my mind, but when there’s a number of birds hanging around a little too close, I remember. I remember it all.

So, when my dear friends heard this horrific story, they wanted to help.

What am I saying? When my friends heard about this they laughed their asses off and began harassing me on Facebook. Here’s what they posted…

(Pictures removed. But they were pictures of birds laughing at my fear of birds)

 

 

 

 

 

  Such a precious bunch of heartless bitches, aren’t they?

It’s fine. I mean, I’m not insane about it or anything. I can be around birds without having a total nervous break-down. But I don’t let my guard down. I have looked into the eyes of an evil-ass bird, and I know the kind of sick rage that torments their tiny little brains. Seriously, you’d have to be pretty fucked up to go around singing all day, right? And eating worms? Bleh!  And don’t even get me started on the way they fly. V is for Vendetta, people! Think about it!

So, until the birdie revolution actually gets here, I’ll agree with my mom that I imagined the whole thing. And I’ll joke with my friends about how silly this psychologically traumatizing event in my childhood really is. But when B-day comes, you better bet your butt I’m gonna be down in my underground cellar surrounded by scarecrows and covered in mothballs and peppermints, laughing at you haters! You’ve been warned.

Thanks for reading!

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