This is how it happened, really. A few simple actions led to a terrible result which shall haunt me for the rest of my days. The catalyst, if you will, was my mother. I was in a very impressionable time of my life, being seven years old, and thus the activities of my day greatly relied on this woman.
On this day in particular, she had something up her sleeve. “Petting zoo!” Her lips formed the words, and my eyes registered them before the sound even had time to reach my ears.
Petting zoo?! What was this, this magical place? Something I'd only vaguely heard of in passing, something that could not possibly exist in real life...could it? The magnificence of it began to swell my veins and make my heart pump furiously in order to maintain my consciousness.
The getting dressed, the car ride, the entrance to the palace of animals – it's all an unimportant, trivial blur. I remember wearing the ridiculous overalls my mother always forced me to wear, and I remember it not even mattering – I could sacrifice my stylistic superiority to my mom for one day, because after all she WAS bestowing on me this most precious gift. The overalls were worn into a pale denim, so long that they were cuffed at my bony ankles. My mother even provided me with the delicious treat of orange soda, although in my state of extreme fulfilling pleasure I could not be bothered to be careful, and was subsequently poured more so over my face, clothes, and hands than it was into my digestive system, a detail that will later prove to be crucial.
I could no longer contain my excitement, I ran into the place my feet pounding the dusty dirt ground, causing great clouds to enfulge whoever dared follow my footsteps. I forced my hand over the backs of countless animals, my heart almost bursting with joy. Animals! Animals! Domesticated animals, here for my pleasure and entertainment! There, there was a fucking goat. A goat, right in front of me. I petted the shit out of that goat (figuratively, I hoped).
And then...there it was. The donkey. Such a majestic steed I had never set eyes upon before, not in all of my seven years. In awe, my footsteps slowed. It was like we were alone – just me, and the donkey, eyes locked with one another. We had met our match. I walked towards it, my hand stretched out, shaking slightly from the pure unadulterated bliss of the moment. And then – there it was, the moment of connection. My hand must have touched its smooth snout for some moment, but quickly the tables were turned. My hand was in my furry lover's hand. At first, I barely noticed. I felt that this must be normal. We were now friends, after all. Perhaps this was his way of showing affection. As time slowly trickled on, my adrenaline paused to reveal to me the excruciating pain this ass's teeth were making on my tiny little hand. I felt our friendship was quite literally ending at that moment. I tried to remove my hand from his mouth, but he held on fast, playing a sort of tug-of-war with my limb.
“I beg your PARDON, but this is mine!” I would have said, had I had better grip on my mind at the moment, but instead the words that left my lips were more along the lines of:
“MOM! MOMMMMMM! MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”
Frantically, I looked over both shoulders, my mobility greatly limited by my hand being stuck in a live trap. Finally, my mother rushed over, and after a struggle I was released from the beast's clutches, bearing the mark of his great teeth on my small hand for the ensuing weeks.
I suppose the moral of the story is, really, be careful about orange soda.
When you recited this aloud in class, I was so shocked. I didn't see the twist coming. I love how you even kept the "happy go lucky" and "excited child" sarcasm in the beginning and then the story turns. Chop! I would never want my child or myself as a child to get bitten by a donkey. I bet to a little child that donkey must have been huge. Over all, this story is very cute..even though it is about your childhood trauma. I would scream for my mother in sheer horror as well if that happened to me.
ReplyDeleteThis story was just as good reading it as it was in class. You are hilarious!
ReplyDeleteI still love this story. It makes me think of my sister everytime. She LOVES animals. Always wants to pet them (keep in mind she's now 21). She also has the tendency of being bitten by whatever she attempts to pet. So this story falls right in with all the "Hannah stories" from over the years. I'll have to show this to her and see if she can relate. Once again, this is an ah-mazing story, epecially how you told it in class.
ReplyDelete~Rachel Van Liere