Fetch My Flying Monkeys

When I was a little kid in Cincinnati I remember going to the Cincinnati Zoo a lot. My brothers and I were bona fide animal lovers and it was one of our favorite places to go. My mom used to basically turn us loose there. My brothers were all older than me and were always given strict instructions to watch me, which translated to them as dumping my ass as soon as we were out of her sight. Back in those days I don't think parents worried much about child abductions and such. Hell, in the neighborhood I was from, which was full of Irish Catholic families, it wasn't unheard of for the adults to do head counts at the end of the day and end up with extra kids. My point is, no one exactly wanted to steal us.

At the zoo I would always head straight to the children's petting zoo section, because well, I wanted to pet the animals and they had a train that went out over a small man-made lake. The lake was probably two feet deep and was full of water fowl.

This particular day I got to sit in the last car of the train all by myself. Jackpot! I smiled about my good luck as the train pulled out of the station. Since I had the seat all to myself I made myself comfortable stretching out on the seat with my feet up on the bench and slightly sticking out the side.

As we went over the lake the train came to a halt. Apparently our train had mechanical problems. I thought this was really cool. This meant the ride would be longer! Yay! I was all giggly inside until I spotted it. Satan with feathers. A swan. It was bigger than a German Shepard (and this was no child's memory). It was HUGE. It reached me just as I brought my feet in. At first it started biting my shoes. Then instantly it was IN THE TRAIN on top of me; honking, pecking, giant wings flapping, blocking out the sun. It wanted me dead.

I didn't even have a chance to scream. Something like primal instinct (or flash-backs from the horror movies I'd sneaked to watch) kicked in and I knew I had to protect my eyes and throat (like the swan had teeth or carried a blade, right?) Early in the attack I did manage to see that the people (ADULTS!) in the seat in front of me were crawling over the seat in front of them to escape the swan rampage and leave me to fend for myself.

Between the beating from the wings and the beak inflicting pain all over my head and hands I managed to get both my feet up and with all the power I had I started kicking. That managed to get the demon beast off of me a tad and I started kicking and punching and cussing with all my might. I remember screaming words my brothers had taught me."YOU FUCKER, YOU FUCKER! BITCH!! I'LL KILL YOU FUCKER! BASTARD! over and over. Then suddenly the train started moving and soon the swan was in the distance honking fustratedly. Fucker.

I sat there with feathers floating all around me, my clothes and hair all disheveled. All the other people in the train were turned around staring at me. I saw mothers with their hands over their crying kid's ears. And I saw fear in their eyes. Not of the swan, but of me. I stared back. I started straightening my clothes, picking feathers out of my hair and smoothing it back into my pig tails. I had red bite marks all over the backs of my hands and arms. The train stopped at the station and I exited the area with a little bounce in my step.

I learned a few things that day. I learned nature is cruel; that not all animals are sweet and cuddly. I learned that basically it's you against the world. No one is going to save your ass so you better be ready to save it yourself. But most importantly I learned how to curse correctly.