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June 12, 2001
As a child growing up in Baton Rouge, we had a man-made lake behind our house. On the surface of the lake swam nature-made geese. They were mean-looking geese who honked with malice. One day as I was walking along the shore, a gaggle of geese swam directly toward me in a V-formation that would have made the SS proud. I retreated only slightly until I realized they were storming the beaches. Then I broke into a run away from the lake and toward the house. My legs at the time were only an inch longer than the standard goose-leg so the geese were able to catch me quickly. The lead goose began pecking at my little ass as we covered ground between the lake and house. I was wearing shorts so they also nipped the backs of my thighs. I made it inside missing only a few pieces of skin and a large chunk of my still-developing mind.
I am not sure if this qualifies as an irrational fear because, later, I found out that I had failed to wipe from my butt that morning some goose-provoking millet I had placed in my crack (for a reason that escapes me now) the previous evening. But to this day, the sight of a goose sends me first to the bathroom and then to bed.
© 2001 by the beastmaster