|Geese Are Rather Useless
Author: Writer in the Woods PM
Well, they are. And what more reason do you need to scare them? Just another story of a stupid mistake made in middle school.Rated: Fiction K - English - Humor/Adventure - Words: 871 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 01-22-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3094516
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Geese Are Rather Useless
It was fall of eighth grade. Seeing my brother able to drive had finally sparked a rebellion in me, and I was determined to find my own form of independent transportation. I convinced my friend Zoe to bike ride with me. We ventured to downtown Elgin, a few miles down the road from our neighborhood, and the Target center on Route 59, just through the forest preserve.
Because of a suicide committed on the train tracks behind our neighborhood, our parents warned against using tracks as a short cut to Target. Instead, we biked three miles around the neighborhood, through the Sears Center parking lot, and came through the back entrance near Sports Authority. It was a long trek, but we rejoiced in our newfound freedom.
Zoe was often too busy to accompany me after school, so I would ride alone. I would plug my headphones in, hop on my mom's old mountain bike, and set off down the side of the road. On some roads, the shoulder was so small that I occasionally veered into the lane next to me, making the experience rather nerve racking for passing cars. I, however, was unfazed. In fact, I grew tired of using my handlebars and, thinking myself a particularly good biker, road no-handed. Seeing a young girl casually riding her bike down the side of a busy road, occasionally swerving in an effort to keep her balance while riding without using handlebars, most drivers gave me plenty of room.
Because I was alone on these trips, I was dangerously left to my own devices. One day, I was cutting through the Sears Center parking lot, and a large flock of geese had taken over half the lot. They plucked at the ground aimlessly, deposited their irksome feces in every parking space, and sporadically honked as I passed.
Geese are rather useless, I thought to myself, and there are so many of them. Wouldn't it be fun to watch them all fly away? Then they'd stop pooping in the parking lot where I ride.
Acting on this clearly brilliant idea, I suddenly swung my bike around in the direction of the geese. I charged forward, letting out my best imitation of a war cry, which sounded more like a dying baby elephant- more depressing than threatening- but was good enough to scare the geese anyway. Half of them scattered, ascending into the air in panicked zigzags, but half stayed, watching me intently as to verify whether I was truly a threat. Determined to rid the lot of every stinking goose, I whipped my bicycle around to threaten the other half again.
Unfortunately, this was a great overestimation of my biking skills on my behalf. Instead of turning around at the sharp angle I had aimed for, my bike slid out from under me, and my knee caught the rest of the turn. As my body kept spinning with the bike, my knee was crushed and grinded into the rocky asphalt. I keeled over, my bike clattering as it made full contact with the ground. Blood was pouring from the giant rip in my knee as I sat there, choosing to look at the goose poop covering the lot rather than my now scarlet leg. My sole satisfaction came from the last half of the geese fleeing the scene.
Realizing there was no one around to help and that I was halfway to Target anyway, I hauled myself up, carefully balancing on one leg and ignoring the blood dripping into my shoe. Using my bike as a crutch, I hobbled the rest of the way to Target. Many cars slowed as they passed me, inspecting the apparently wounded child and cheerfully moving on with their days. Even shoppers I passed along the strip of stores simply looked on with concern but said nothing. Finally, once I latched my bike to a nearby bench, I limped into Target.
Grabbing the nearest employee and struggling not to drip blood on their floor, I asked, "Where are the Band-Aids?"
The ladies eyes bulged a moment as she glanced down at my leg. "Sweetie, I think you need more than a Band-Aid."
She sat me down on a bench near customer service and fetched the store's first aid kit. After cleaning out the gash and wiping off my leg, she slapped a large padded bandage on it, the kind they use to cover stitches. She then offered her assistance in finding any item I was looking for, but I turned her down. I grabbed my usual items, a case of Amp and a gaming card, and headed home like nothing ever happened.
It was only the next day in school that I remembered the wound. The bandage had already fallen off, and I was used to having scraped knees. Thought the day, people asked me what I did to it. I chose to tell most people a made up story, but my closer friends knew I was lying.
After having drilled the story out of me, most followed up with the exasperated demand: "What were you thinking?"
"Well," I responded, "I was thinking geese were rather useless."