Please…Don’t Send the Baby to Hunt Me Down! (In Other Words, Failed Attempts on My Life This Week)

10 11 2010

I think I’m being hunted.

Seriously.

No, really–this is not one of those times when I’m writing tongue-in-cheek (which would make for a pretty sore cheek, to be perfectly honest). I must have a target on my back. That’s the only feasible explanation I can come up with for the odd events of the last few days.

It is deer season, right?

That’s what I thought. My conspiracy theories seem a little less insane when you remember that thousands of people all over the state are constantly plotting creative ways to trap and kill nice, gentle, peaceful creatures….like me.

When and where did the hunting start? I think it started last Wednesday.

In the course of barely 4 hours, I got hit on by a man with no teeth, discovered my dogs on a sugar-high after mysteriously opening and eating an entire container of peanut brittle I left on the counter, had a squirrel fall off the third story floor of our apartment and land next to me and glare at me–yes, he glared!–and nearly got punched by a cranky grandma at Toys R Us when I grabbed the last squirt gun on the shelf.

Let me guess….you don’t see how that adds up to me feeling like I’m being hunted. Let me break it down for you and explain how each one of these people (um, and animals) made an attempt on my life:

Toothless Man Hitting On Me: he referenced “ordering a keg” to my apartment. My apartment is on the third floor. Clearly, he was trying to get me drunk so he could push me off the balcony to my painful death in the hideous, spider-infested bushes below.

Dogs on a Peanut-Brittle High: they purposely opened and ingested two pounds of peanut brittle just so they could jump an extra six inches higher–which means they can jump up past my waist. They were attempting to cause me to trip and fall while carrying in several bags, which would’ve led to me fall and accidentally stab myself in the throat with my keys.

Fallen Squirrel: The squirrel’s devious attempt to fall three flights down would (and did) cause me to rush over and make sure he wasn’t hurt. He was likely hoping that I’d slip on a leaf and crack my head open on the sidewalk, and slowly bleed to death without being to reach my phone to call for help.

Cranky Grandma Trying to Steal My Squirt Guns: I spent several days searching the entire St. Louis area for toy squirt guns, which are extremely difficult to find in November, by the way. Obviously, the employees at several area Targets, Walmart, Party Cities, and Dollar Tree stores conspired together and figured out that the only logical place I could head on that particular Wednesday afternoon would be Toys R Us. They hired an evil henchman dressed up as an old grandmother, and placed her squarely in front of the squirt gun barrel so I would bump into her while loading up on squirt guns. And they framed it so that the security cameras would make it look like I was the guilty party, when in actuality it was this cranky woman who started chewing me out and getting agitated. It was only due to my stealth and speed that I managed to dart away before she hit me in the face with her overly large purse.

Fine. I didn’t quite convince you that they were out to get me? How about the fact

 that I had 25 middle school students running around last Friday, all aiming for my face while we played a squirt gun game?

Or the fact that I sat down at my desk on Monday morning and ended up getting shot point-blank with the same squirt guns by a trusted co-worker (who henceforth will always be referred to as “The Assassin”, in my mind)?

Deadly weapons, aren't they?

(As a quick aside, I’ve learned that when your co-workers are stressed out–as this normally gentle and easy-going Assassin was, in busily planning Christmas services–it’s definitely not a good idea to leave squirt guns lying around the office. Or balls. Or toy boxing gloves. It never ends well for me.)

You’re still not convinced that I’m being hunted?

Ok, try this one: another co-worker sent her 9-month-old baby after me this afternoon.

Yes. Cunning, I know. Talk about a surprise attack…

I was minding my own business, diligently working on my computer, when I heard her baby crawl over towards me. Expecting to turn around and smile at her, I instead turned around to a sight of complete horror:

She had her paws wrapped around a giant, loaded supersoaker squirt gun. And she had managed to spin the weapon around so that it was aimed directly at me.

As if that’s not unbelievable enough, she then actually gripped the trigger.

I’ve never been so terrified in my life.

Who sends a baby to do what a toothless man, two hyper dogs, a squirrel, a grandmother, 25 teenagers, and a co-worker have failed to do?

Only someone of extreme purpose and dedication.

Gulp.

I guess I’d better watch my back….

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2 responses

12 11 2010
Deborah

If I were you, I’d be most concerned about the squirrel. Watch your back.

Like

12 11 2010
Eric

The last part is the best part. I can see it now… Make my day.

Like

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