So here’s the thing. I hate geese. I’m terrified of them. I think they’re horrible, evil creatures that want only one thing, and that’s my blood. Mine, personally. I’m not sure if I wronged geese as a species in a former life or what, but they hate me and I them.

I’m actually okay with geese – as long as there is a pane of glass, a cage, or a very large man separating me from them. Yesterday at work we noticed a whole family of geese waddling through our parking lot. There were several adults and a few cute fluffy little goslings. I gushed over how cute the geese were and took pictures of them – through the window, from the safety of my office.

I pulled up to work this morning and noticed the whole flock was out in the front yard. The little goslings were all eating some flesh some grass or something and the adult geese were there as well. I thought it was so darn adorable I snapped a picture.

I watched them for a while and then got bored, and collected my things getting ready to walk into work. It was then that it dawned on me that the tree they were all gathered around was directly in front of the front door, and that I’d have to walk by the whole damn bunch of them to get to it. Visions of screaming and feathers flying through the air while I was honked and bitten to death filled my head and I froze.

What was I going to do? Suddenly, I had an idea. I took what was left of my blueberry muffin, slowly opened the door and began throwing it at the geese. They stopped and looked at me. One hissed, and I might have peed my pants a little. They began waddling after my offering and I slowly made my way out of the car. I walked to the passenger side, one eye on the geese and the other on my destination. It was then that they ran out of muffin and all of their evil, horrible little heads turned to look at me. They started inching toward me and I freaked out. I threw more muffin at them. I think it mostly just made them mad because they sent this asshole to come get me.

I leaped back into the car, slamming the passenger door behind me. I frantically texted my husband, letting him know that geese were after me, that I loved him, and not to let Nellie forget me. The goose disappeared from sight for a moment until reappearing right outside the window.

I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was going to get eaten alive by geese when this one finally waddled away and I could actually plan my escape. I quickly gathered my belongings, exited the car and sprinted to our back door, where I prayed my key worked in the lock. Luckily for me, it did and I am alive and well enough to tell the tale of how I almost got killed by geese.

The moral of the story is: geese suck and I’m a big fucking wuss. The end.