Okay, I believe I am being targeted by black birds. They are everywhere in huge numbers, in trees, on power lines, on cars, just everywhere. I have never worried about a blackbird in my life. Until recently, I have escaped numerous "bird bombs", even when others have been standing next to me and got hit. To tell you the truth, in 57 years, up until recently I have never, ever been the target of wayward birdpoop. For some reason, my luck has run out. In November, Martin, David and I went to Sam's warehouse for groceries. We were driving our truck, and in the back bed of the truck, was a bunch of deer corn that had spilled out of the bags that Robbie had used when he took the truck and went hunting earlier in the week. When we came out of Sam's, I was in a Christmas mood, and humming as I pushed my laden cart to the truck. Before I had barely cleared the doors, I noticed a huge flock of blackbirds flying all over the parking lot. The closer I got to the truck, I realized that the huge flock of blackbirds were all over our truck, and eating the spilled deer corn from the back bed. There must have been over 50 birds swooping up and down, in and out of the truck bed, and I was amazed at the sight of them. Martin and David were shooing them away so they could load the truck, but the birds kept ducking and swooping to get the corn. I looked up and mentally began counting the birds. As I counted, I had to look higher and higher to get a good count, and since I was so amazed at all those birds, my mouth was hanging open as I counted. The next thing I knew, something warm and oozy plopped into my mouth. Time stood still, as I tried to assimilate what had happened. As the bitter taste assaulted me, I realized that a bird had pooped in my mouth! I gagged with such force, that I bent over at the waist and almost fell. I screamed, "a bird just pooped in my mouth!" But is sounded more like "ah bud yust poped in mah mouff". Martin thought I was having a seizure, and ran to help me. I kept screaming for help, kept gagging, kept spitting, and kept turning in circles, round and round, as I tried to get the poop out of my mouth. Martin grabbed me and shook me and screamed in my face, "Honey! What's wrong? Are you having a spell?" With tears streaming down my face, I mouthed, "Bud pop! Bud pop! Bud pop in mah mouff!!" David started screaming laughing, saying, "I think she said a bird pooped in her mouth!" Martin asked me if a bird had pooped in my mouth, and I cried, "watah, watah, I need sum watah!" Martin began to laugh, tried not to, but couldn't help himself, and leaned against the truck for support. A cart-boy from the parking lot came to see what was wrong. I was still gagging, all bent over, holding my stomach, and spitting and spitting. David told him I was okay, a bird had just pooped in my mouth, that's all. The cart-boy looked incredulous, and then, he too, started laughing his head off. Martin finally got me some water, and I began to rinse my mouth over and over. I couldn't stop gagging, and finally lost my lunch right there. David and Martin were helpless, as they were crying with laughter. Finally, I was able to get in the truck, and we went home, with me gagging the whole way. I was the butt of so many jokes. All I could do was cry, and bemoan the fact that for the first time in my whole life, a bird had finally found it's mark. The family won't let this go. Everytime they see a blackbird, they ask if I have my umbrella. For Christmas, I got a birdhouse. When we go to a parking lot, they say, "duck and run!" Finally, even thought the jokes continue, they have died down somewhat. Then, it happened.
Tonight, I was matching prices at Walmart. Becky and Aunt Cheryl were with me. I was checking out, and Becky went to get another cart to put the overflow in, and brought it over. I grabbed the end of the cart, and felt something warm and oozy spread over my palm. I looked to see what had happened, and noticed that a black, tarring substance was all over my forefinger, my thumb and half of my palm. In confusion, I raised my hand, and with a bit of panic, I asked Becky, "What is this??? What is this?!!! Then I knew. Just as before, a bird had hit me with a bomb, only this time he hit the cart, and I put my hand in it. I have to pray for forgiveness, because without thinking about it, I screamed, "Bird sh*#! That's what it is, Bird sh#*!!!" I started jumping around, flapping my hand around and gagging. It was an incredible amount, and I was hysterical. The clerk ran over with some windex, and told me to put windex on it. "Well, put it on there!" I snapped. (Poor man). He unrolled about a mile of paper towels too, and shoved them at me. I took out my bottle of foam sanitizer, and sprayed and sprayed. Foam was running down my arm, and all I could do was spray more foam. I wiped and wiped, and sure enough, the mess had long since dissapeared. Looking around, I could see that Becky, Aunt Cheryl, and everyone for at least 5 check-out lanes were either shocked, or laughing out loud. Becky, gasping with laughter, said, "Mama, do you know what you just said? Right out loud in Walmart?" I didn't even care, but very soon, with everyone laughing or staring, watching me wash my hand with windex and spraying sanitizer on it in copious amounts, I realized I must have said something. I motioned Becky near to me. "Did I just scream birdsh#* in Walmart?" "You sure did!" she said with glee. "Really loud too, everyone over the store must have heard you!!" Well, then I was mortified. Here I am, a good Mormon Mama, and I am swearing at the top of my raspy voice in Walmart. Worse, one of the members of our ward is a manager there, and another manager is Joe's cousin. I prayed that neither of them were on duty to hear me. I was so embarrassed, so humiliated, I almost began to cry. My face was flaming, and I could feel my blood pressure going up. With my tattered pride, and as much grace as I could muster, I left the poopy cart with Becky, held my head up and tried to walk out as if nothing happened. But I guess my raspy voice is louder than I thought, because, as I walked out, people were still laughing and watching me. I had to wait in the entrance area for Becky and Aunt Cheryl to check out, and stand there knowing that everyone who walked out had witnessed my humiliating experience. I have done so well for over a year with my language. I will have to work harder, because it sure didn't help in this moment of stress. Oh, and I will buy an umbrella.
Like I said, I guess my luck has run out.
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