Doomsday

Birds? I don't like them. It might be more accurate to say I hate them. And yes, Mom and Clay, I realize they are related to or descendants of or best friends with dinosaurs. I could care less. The beady eyes, the talons, the...feathers. Some of it goes back to the time a parrot attacked me in a pet store, some of it goes back to the evil swans that lived in the bog near my house on Cape Cod. All I wanted to do was eat my peanut butter sandwich while wearing a tutu and all they wanted to do was eat my face. Nice.

I don't mind ducks so much, and while we were in Texas this past week I suggested we go feed some at the state park. But instead of ducks we found geese. Huge geese. Huge, diabolical, hungry for my flesh geese. I tried to get away. I tried to throw the bread in the water and keep them there. But they followed me onto the dock and tried to kill me. And now, pictures of my death-defying adventure.


I see the geese. I panic.

The geese see me. They begin to salivate.


I just like my hair in this one.

I hide in the corner. Still convinced I'll get out alive.



They find me, they find my bread.



Checking to see if he can climb up on the table. It's unclear at this point.


They hiss. They plot. I run away. They chase.


Closer they come.



I faint. I die. They feast.

The End.