How To Hurl Your Lunch At Nature: A Love Story

Today I figured that I would eat some fast food while staring at a small patch of nature from the parking lot of some sort of pretentious financial building that was closed for the day.  I don’t really dig fast food, but sometimes I get a craving and then I start eating my purchase and am stunned by how much it just plain sucks.  I have been baking up piles of potatoes and eating them like a rabid dog over the past few days and my crinkle fries were not so exciting.  So, I stared at the meandering geese and lone robin and I was like, well sharing is caring, right?

I threw a couple fries out of the passenger window.  One goose stared at the fry, watching it sail majestically through the parking lot and land alongside a hyper-manicured shrub.  The goose eyed me like I might be supernatural.  Then, he went back to poking his beak in the dirt.

I tried again.  This time under the vigilant eye of the robin.

This led to the most frustrating sense of kinship that I will likely ever have with a random animal.  I tossed the fry toward him as hard as I could and he puffed out his little fluffy chest in defiance.  He gave me crazy bird eye as it dropped a few feet in front of him.  Then, once the threat of taking a fry to the face was averted, he turned and ran like a bitch.  This is pretty much on par with my best responses to aggression.  I will stand there holding my ground until the threat appears to be over and then run like hell.  It’s like you have to prove the point that you aren’t scared while you are facing potential danger (or in this case, the offer of hurled food), but the minute that shits over?  Totally out of there.

And he didn’t fly away.  Just ran.  And ran.  Looked back.  Ran some more.  Finally, he stopped about a billion feet away from the fry bomb and just stared at it.  It was like he was waiting for it to explode and prove all of his pessimism warranted.  I assume that about five hours later, he will process what happened to him and go back and eat the damn fry.  How do I know?  Because he’s just like me.  And he will eat the garbage fry.

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