When I was a kid, I had an animal magnetism all my own.  By that I mean, animals were drawn to beating the shit out of me.  I don’t know why, but the list of things that happened is pretty funny now, looking back.

I think it started with the chicken.  When I was about 6 or 7, my dad raised chickens for their egg-producing qualities, and sometimes we would even get to witness stage 1 of how chicken salad is made.  It was edutainment at its finest.  However, being the youngest kid in the fam, I was apparently a target for all of the unresolved aggression of every animal in the neighborhood.  For instance, where there are hens, there are often roosters.  One of them, in particular, had a grudge against me, and one day decided that he’d had enough of my upright humanness bullshit.  I was taller than he was and it pissed him off.  I don’t know why, he had all the chicks.  ho ho!

Yeah, so one day he charged me.  Not expecting this sudden outrage, I stumbled backwards and tripped over something, landing comfortably in a patch of hay.  This comfort was not destined to last, for an angry rooster is a mighty foe for a scrawny 7 year old who doesn’t know what the fucking fuck is going on.  The son of a bitch started jumping on my chest like I was a trampoline, scratching the hell out of me and scarring me for life, or at least a few days.  Oh but my brother was there.  “Saved!” or so I thought.  No, that prick just laughed at my shame.  I should have expected as much.  I don’t remember how it ended, but my enemy is now gone from this world, where I’m quite sure he resides in Poultry Valhalla telling tales of his victory and making me sound a lot bigger than I was.