I’m not really one to buy into things of a superstitious, psychic, and/or evangelical nature. Heck yes I’ll open an umbrella indoors. If I wait until I’m outside, then I’ll get soaked; hence destroying the purpose of an umbrella. Also, I’ve had exceptional Friday the 13ths. (But maybe that’s why Ikea reeks of evil: too many broken mirrors over the years).
Indeed, I was born in September so I shall accept the label of Virgo. Do I really need to go clean and organize all the time, daily horoscopes? No thanks; I’ll watch Veronica Mars and eat cereal in my bed instead. Also, these silly astrological folk keep telling me to marry a Taurus. Incorrect: Joseph Gordon-Levitt is an Aquarius. No can do.
So this apocalypse thing that’s supposedly going down in a year’s time…meh, highly unlikely. I feel like I’ve watched so many world destruction movies that I’m slightly unfazed by it. If the world really were to end around me tomorrow, I probably would comment, “Yeah…Michael Bay did a better job of capturing the essence of Dooms Day. This all is mere child’s play.” And then I would get hit by a meteor fragment and then die. C’est la apocalypse.
But then this week I read about scary, real life occurrences such as the millions of dead fish washing up in the Chesapeake Bay, tons of dead croaker, sardines, and catfish in Brazil, and then the mutant eye-less, dead snapper fish in New Zealand.
A) Are the crabs still okay in the Chesapeake Bay because they are delightfully delicious?
B) What’s a croaker?
C) WTF are you doing down there, New Zealand?
Oh and then there were a bunch of dead birds found in Sweden. Yeah, crazy stuff. It kind of makes me pause and say, “Huh. Should I or should I not stock up on baked beans then?” Or maybe I should book passage to the moon.
What if the creepy Christians were right? Maybe God is like “Enough is enough, fools. For starters, I’m baking you an End of the Humans pie, and it’s full of sweet croaker and mutant no-eye snappers.” Actually, I bet it wouldn’t taste that bad. I would have a better last supper than Jesus.
Anyway, I started thinking…what if I could be the Lord of the Apocalypse?
What animal would I shank up first?
I don’t think it would be fish. I like fish. Well, I like to eat fish; they make a tasty protein. I’m probably going to give my future babies crazy mercury poisoning due to the vast amounts of fish I eat. I most likely have it all stored up in a secret chamber in my body and then my babies will all be deformed and I will start my own little Hills Have Eyes.
I’m on a mutant kick, I suppose.
So as Lord of the Apocalypse, I would go along with Sweden: it’s bird killing time. But, not just any bird. There’s one avian that I’ve held a vendetta against since the age of seven. It may shock you because they tend to be pretty popular amongst the birds of prey enthusiasts. Have you guessed?
It’s the owl. Yes, owls, you would be the first to die.
I used to like owls. Before the Incident, I watched the Tootsie Roll pop commercials. That owl was pretty bad ass. He showed that dumb kid who was boss: three licks only, BOOM. And Owl was cute on Winnie the Pooh. He was a good friend to Silly Winnie. One time, I used to think owls quite majestic. But nay, no longer.
It was the summer of first grade, and my family flew to England to visit my grandparents. (Yeah, I’m a halfie; it happens). My parents and grandparents were constantly thinking of new ways to entertain my two older sisters and I. So, a trip to the local aviary sanctuary was proposed. I was really excited; I basically loved every animal on the face of the Earth back then. I was a bouncing ball of energy ready to go check out some caged birds. My sisters were a little less thrilled, but on we went to the aviary.
I remember skipping all around the cages. Parakeets! Canaries! Robins! BIRDS! My sister Laura frequently complained about the layers of poop covering every square inch, but I didn’t care. The birds were so loud and colorful. This was the best day ever.
We then went to the birds of prey show out in the field by the cages. They had several owls and some hawks to do some aerial tricks for the masses. YES! I could hardly contain myself. I twitched with excitement on the bench next to Laura. It was just my family and a small group of nursing home folk. I was the only one really pumped to see some huge birds fly in circles.
It was the end of the show and the trainer asked, “Who would like to hold an owl?”
I immediately turned to my mum with an ecstatic look in my eye. I would like nothing better than to hold an owl. And, this particular owl he was volunteering was my favorite. It was a petite snowy owl named Doughnut. I knew that Doughnut and I would be the best of friends as soon as he perched on my arm. I would become the Owl Whisperer. And Doughnut would murmur sweet owl nothings into my ear. I just knew it.
So, my mum volunteered me. I was buzzing with joy and anticipation. The handler walked over to me and told me to hold out my arm. He slapped a huge glove on my arm and placed some cat food on my hand. He looked pretty young; it probably had been his first day on the job. The trainer then blew on a whistle that sounded like a beautiful owlish coo. I could see Doughnut circling up above me, and then Doughnut started to swoop down towards me. My brain was on a different wavelength.
All I could think of was: Me + Doughnut = BFFaeaeaeaeaeeeeee <3
Doughnut landed and began to scoff down the cat food. The owl was surprisingly heavy. I didn’t mind; I couldn’t stop staring at Doughnut. He was so beautiful up close and personal. My new biffie was magnificent. I already was thinking of the adventures Doughnut and I would have. I even imagined Doughnut trailing behind my plane when we went back home to America. Doughnut and I would be together forever.
Doughnut gradually realized that he was on some strange human’s arm and not a post or its trainers. Doughnut whirled around to get a better look at me. I was thrilled; Doughnut was looking at me! His eyes were so big and brown…I couldn’t believe I was having such a magical moment.
And then Doughnut’s eyes began to dilate. And began to widen…larger…and larger. Until Doughnut’s face disappeared. I just kept staring soulfully back into his eyes. I was in love…
Next thing I know, in the splittest of seconds, Doughnut attacked. He pecked me on the nose and then took off into the heavens. I was in shock and in a lot of pain.
You may wonder what it’s like being pecked on the nose by an owl.
Well, it’s exactly what you think. It’s like a raptor sneaking up behind you and pinching your nose saying, “Got your honker!”
If you are not familiar with any raptors, then I can assure you: being pecked on the nose by an owl hurts like a bitch.
End result: my whole family was in hysterics. Of laughter. The trainer apologized profusely and looked so scared. He was petrified that he would get fired, my family would sue the aviary, and/or Faajaaah would pull out a rifle and shoot Doughnut down from the sky.
Oh no. Everyone had a good chuckle at my expense. I laughed because everyone else was laughing. While simultaneously sobbing from the excruciating pain in my nose. And realizing my dreams of an owl companion were dashed. And the trauma of realizing that a scary animal could have very well pecked my eyes out.
After that, I just wanted to leave the aviary and never return. You know what, I haven’t been back to one since.
So yes, as Lord of the Apocalypse, I would first do away with the owls.
I will find you, Doughnut. Wherever you are, I shall find you. And I will adorn my Lord of the Apocalypse crown with your feathers.
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