I'm a big wuss. Oh, yeah, I talk a mean game; I have a vile temper and a horrible outlook; I know how to kickbox and can identify at least a dozen vulnerable spots on the human body in a flash. But when actually confronted with something scary, I tend to freak out. Like this morning, when I looked at my next-door neighbor's porch. I expected to see at least one of the resident cats I'm so fond of, and maybe administer a morning nose-touch or head-scratch. Instead, I saw a possum the size of Mojo perched on the railing.
Seven and a half hours later, I'm still actively freaked out about it. It looked right at me!
"Oh, he's yawning," says my officemate Carolyn. "They're still God's creatures, and everything is beautiful to its own kind," says my mom. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" say I, as I frantically scramble back into the house.
How can you not be freaked out by a possum? They're nocturnal, man, they're not like us normal taxpaying folks; they don't play by our rules. Plus, they've got those big black soulless eyes and that long, skinny rat-like tail. They look like something out of a Tim Burton film -- the scary part of a Tim Burton film. Damn, I'm freaking myself out all over again.
As if that weren't bad enough, on my lunch break today, I had to swerve to avoid a passel of geese near my job. Geese are the second part of the Suburban Fauna Horror Trifecta (the third part being snakes, of course). And geese are even worse than possums because geese will fuck you up.
Geese are either too stupid or too flat-out hateful to have a healthy fear of anything, so they attack any living creature that comes near them. My father got too close to a goose when he was seven years old. He carried a nasty scar on his knee from that encounter for the rest of his life. That's the kind of damage a goose can do.
My dad was hardly the only victim of geese, either. Across the continent, nobody is safe from these honking menaces. The video in the third link shows plenty of goose aggression, but somehow neglects to show the goose's secondary weapon: plentiful, hair-trigger bowels. Seriously. Geese are made of hatred and poop, and they will not hesitate to assault you with both.
Thank God the day's almost over, and the weather is cold enough for most reptiles to stay... wherever they are. I'd hate to think I might run the chance of hitting the damn trifecta of terrifying suburban critters in one day. Nonetheless, in the words of the strange, disembodied voice in Eegah!, I plan to watch out for snakes.