Why I Don't Like Geese

I have a long history of fear and loathing where geese are concerned. For some strange reason, they love to attack me. Even as a baby. My mom had to stop taking me to the park because they'd charge after me, en masse.

Then one time my friend, her family and I went to the park. I don't remember exactly how old I was. Somewhere between 6-8. We were having a grand ol' time trying to learn how to skip rocks on the brook. Then I heard it. That ominous honk. I turned around and there they were, surrounding me. How they snuck up on me so quietly, I'll never know. I was wary, but didn't move until one tried to bite me. Then I threw my rock at the group and took off running. They gave chase, the evil little minions of Satan. I wound up slipping on goose shit and, yes, landing in some of it. I had goose shit all over my nice jeans. My mom was going to be pissed. My friend's parents had to scare the geese away from me and we hurried home. I had to sit on a newspaper.

Fast forward to college. Sophomore year. I had a lovely little single room in the dorms. It had a view of the campus and you could even see the lake if you craned your neck a bit. It was a small room, but I didn't mind that. I had that lovely view after all. Then, again, that fucking honk.. I look out my window and it was like a horror movie. Geese everywhere. All right in front of my fucking window. They honked day and night. They shit everywhere. My lovely view was covered in goose shit. I fucking hate geese.