Canadian wild life is out to kill me.
“That’s odd” you might be thinking, “isn’t Canadian wild life suppose to be like extra polite and say welcome to Canada and give out free bottles of Canadian whisky and maple syrup?” If you were referring to the Canadian police, residence or even our local hobos, you would be right but Canadian wild life has come up from the seventh level of hell and is more than willing to take me down with it.
Last week I wanted to do my body a favour and walk the 20 minutes to Starbucks instead of drive there. Canadian summers are usually the temperature of hell and the humidity is unbearable but nobody’s ever been shot or mugged in my neighbourhood so walking seemed like an unlikely death sentence, except for the fact that you have to walk through a land mine of geese that chase after you like goddamn cheetahs.
I was risking my life for a cup of coffee. This may seem like an over exaggeration for comedic effect and trust me, I wish it was but if you’ve ever been around Canadian geese you know exactly what I mean when I say they are the spawn of Satan and they Will. Kill. You.
So I’m walking down the street wearing my pretty floral dress right? when all of the sudden I hear a honk. Usually the honk of a car would scare people and make them turn the colour of a sheet but I didn’t hear a car honk, I heard a goose honk and the honk of goose is about a trillion times more terrifying than a car honk. I turn around and behold, there’s momma goose with her 7 babies lined up behind her pretending not to be the offspring of a killer. I know I’m screwed.
I’m 5’2 but I ran like I was fricking 6’4. If I was being timed I would have beat Usain Bolt and qualified for the 2016 Olympics. I could have gone to Rio and met Zac Efron, but with
my experience in life, no one is ever there when you need them to be so I ran at Usain Bolt speed all the way down the street screaming “I DON’T HAVE ANY BREAD! I DON’T HAVE ANY BREAD! JUST LET ME GET MY DARK ROAST COFFEE AND ILL BUY YOU A MUFFIN. I CAN’T FEED YOU IF IM DEAD!” without anyone there to time me or film me to put it on YouTube.
I don’t think geese understand English very well since they CLEARLY didn’t get the message because momma goose was still chasing me down the street like a goddamn predator. I was running so fast and was so scared that I almost didn’t see the geese in front of me lined up and blocking the sidewalk like they were solders at the front prepared for battle. They were looking at me like “oh this white girl is going down” so I had no choice except to run in the middle of traffic to dodge the geese which seems like a death wish but “local girl killed by car” sounds a lot cooler than “local girl eaten alive by geese” so you can see my logic in this death or death situation.
I ran across the street to the other sidewalk which was still full of geese (which I wanted to rename to death eaters at this point but geese are definitely not cool enough to be any character in Harry Potter, even the bad ones) so I ended up dodging in and out of honking, biting geese like they were playing soccer and I was the ball.
A big meaty ball that looked like it would taste good.
I eventually made it down the street and ran into Starbucks beet red and sweaty, with look on my face that totally made people think I had seen a guy get shot because the barista and several people inside looked at me like “what the hell is going on? Is this girl taking flakka?” To which I would have said “IM NOT ON DRUGS, I WAS ALMOST KILLED BY GEESE” but I think people would have thought I was for sure taking drugs at that point so I ordered my coffee in a hurry and left.
I didn’t buy a muffin to give to Satan and her spawn because bad geese don’t deserve presents so I decided to take the long way home to avoid being attacked since I didn’t keep my promise of buying the geese a muffin.
If anyone from Starbucks is reading this, I RISKED MY LIFE FOR YOUR COFFEE BECAUSE IM ADDICTED TO IT and this is free advertising so I think I deserve a gift card or like a free mug or something?
Long story short, if you’re Canadian and have learned the ways of the most vicious predator in Canadian history next to the vikings, congratulations and good luck. If you’re not Canadian and ever consider visiting Canada, find the nearest Tim Hortons and stay there your entire trip. Seriously. Just stay inside. You’ll thank me one day.