Hawk Attack
2003-07-27 | 10:31 a.m.
Yesterday, while reading a book along the river, I felt this swooping noise, a fierce ruffling of my hair and a second later, saw a hawk take flight from the top of my head.

It took me a few seconds to put two and two together, and when I did, my eyes bulged out from my head and looked into the sky where the perpetrator and his friend were circling above me, making that god awful screeching noise you hear in horror movies when something bad is going to happen.

I am scared and fascinated at the same time. Thinking I'm safe, I return to the book and upon hearing the shrill shriek again, I look up and the bastardly bird looks at me like I'm a dartboard and, like a kamikaze fighter, barrels down in my precise direction.

I scramble to my feet, it swerves back up into the sky and I use John Barth's The End of the Road to protect my noggin from future floggin. It seems to work, but as I gallop down the path, the two birds follow their prize for a good minute before they become disinterested and find other insects and meat matter to scavenge.

I run into the downtown core and take refuge in Winners. Thank god for concrete buildings and materialism. I finally embrace you.

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