Crouching Goose, Hidden Devil

I heart Mondays. Also, sarcasm. *sighs*

Yesterday, I had to be at the office by early o'clock. The sun was barely conscious and God only knows I wasn't. The wind stole my breath and my dignity {yes, I was wearing pink panties and yes, half the morning commuters can verify this}. My boots clicked rhythmically to the beat of The Fratellis and I was already mentally consuming copious amounts of caffeine. I rounded the circular entrance-way and reached into my purse for my handy-dandy swipe card only to find that, lo and behold, it was nowhere to be found.

{cover your ears if obscenities offend your sensibilities}

After a brief girlie-stamp-feet-in-dismay-hissyfit-of-epic-proportions, I gathered my composure and began the jaunt {read: hike} around to the other security entrance. This is where my morning took a fateful twist.

I decided to go the scenic route, past a small pond and following a meandering path over a bridge and through a wooded area. Pretty.

Oh, did I mention the geese?

*ahem*

There are geese.

So, off I go, with my boots-a-made-for-walkin', and about 3 minutes into my journey, I am regretting my choice. Because, geese? They shit. Everywhere. But I am nothing if not stubborn, and I'm not about to let some loose bowel-ed goose make me late.

So, step-ity, step-ity, skip. Step-ity, step-ity, swerve. Etc.

And then.

Honk.

I pause.

HONK!

I look to my left and right.

And THEY look back.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

Shit-shit-shit-shit. Literally and figuratively.

Two angry shitty geese are glaring at me. With furrowed brows. Yes, geese have eyebrows. Shut up! They do!

HONK!

I am now faced with a dilemma. Do I wait for them to move on or do I make a run for it? Because although I have never seen a goose fell a human on National Geographic, they don't look like they are in the mood to cuddle. Also, the lateness.

HONK! HONK!

I start to run.

HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK-HONK!

They think I've challenged them to a race.

HONK! HONK!

I run faster.

HONK! HONK! HONK!

They follow suit.

HONK!

I am still hop-scotching over goose-poopies.

HONK! HONK!

They are still hungry for human-flesh.

HONK-HONK-HONK!

Sweet Jesus in heaven, the end of the path is in sight!

Blessed pavement. Sans goose-shit.

*attempts-to-catch-breath*

The geese circle angrily on the perimeter, flapping their feathers in warning lest I think they will forget me anytime soon.

And then I see it.

A sign.

Knocked down by the aforementioned wind gusts of skirt raising proportions.

Geese nesting. Please avoid at all costs.

Duck, duck, goose. Run!