Sunday, October 5, 2014

     So I am sitting at the park under a cluster of giant pine trees. The sky is pure blue, the sun is shining through the branches, a gentle breeze caresses my shoulders. I am savoring a banana purchased from my local Hess gas station, engrossed in my World War II novel, the bad guys approaching. 

      Suddenly, out of nowhere I feel a sharp sting on my arm. Shrapnel? meteorite? flapping banana peel? No. A piece of pine straw with a tip like a razor-sharp arrow has attacked my flesh. I look down to see a tiny cut the size of a fire ant on my left arm.The blood is beginning to pool under the skin like a raw egg spreading our on the bottom of a frying pan. wtf? Attached by tree droppings? 

     There is no way I can take cover. I am surrounded by giant pines, their straw threatening to do great bodily harm to my body. I quickly gather up my peanut butter quick cup, my yellow peel, my keys, book, sunglasses and paper bag. I struggle awkwardly to fold up the non-collapsible collapsible beach chair, hoisting it half-closed onto my back scraping my neck. 

     HI-tailing it across the park, dodging pine cones and branches in the wind, I make it to my car. Stuffing the chair into the trunk, scraping my other arm on the door latch, I scramble into the driver’s seat bruised and bleeding. 

     Next time I need some quiet time in the sun, I will head for the nearest rifle range.