A friend of mine, for no discernible reason, slogged through the middle years of the 1970’s almost continuously repeating the phrase: “everybody loves a duck.” As a point of fact, I believe everybody does love a duck, though I am unsure why my friend felt so compelled to tell everyone. While my sister may, just the same as the rest of the populace, love a duck, she cannot abide by a goose. She is gripped by an intense fear of geese. Big white, fluffy geese. She claims that a white goose “attacked” her one day as she strolled through a park in Denver. I cannot imagine what a goose attack looks like to an observer, but I don’t expect that the visual impact rivals that, say, of a naked man attacking with a machete. My sister alleges that the goose tried to peck her and nip at her. The goose chased her away from the reflecting pond and around the big trees, all honking and feathery, perhaps with deep-set aspirations of becoming a down pillow once that skinny broad was chased the hell away from the water.
--Mitchell Hegman
No comments:
Post a Comment