Hate
I discriminate.
Alright, that's not entirely true though I am not disputing the fact that it could be false either. But as a kid, I always had a grudge against 'em crows. Yes, they did shit on me more than statistically probable but so did my lil' niece but I never did hold it against her. I adore her and still do. In fact, I gift her Barbie on her birthdays. This year I sent her Barbie's head and now all that is left incomplete of the Barbie are her arms.
Coming back to the crows, I never did know when I started hating them but it was soon after the incident involving a murder of crows who swooped down on me and tried to penetrate through my diaper. How was I to know that crow eggs did not constitute as a toy then; I was a kid for cryin' out loud. Yet they chose attack me. I didn't remember much of the incident but when I was told about it, the seeming incongruous anecdote about the botched circumcision seemed a little fishy. And I am still under the impression that the crows are not completely satisfied with their handiwork. I have often spotted a few of them sharpening their beaks right outside my restroom window.
Well, anyways, there was a period when I used to blame everything on the crows. I used to like eating by the balcony but if the stuff I was eating wasn't palaptable (as most of the food was back then), I used to make little missiles and throw them out. My mum never did find out about this till three weeks into my escapade. I got a little careless and chucked most of the food on my mom, who was returning back from the market. Well, I did manage to get out of it but it took a lot of quick thinking. I had to scratch my arms rather badly and then blame it on the poorly fed crows that lurched outside our balcony. From that day on I made it a point to pelt the crows with a little rice and curry; it would make my claims look genuine.
Then the crows came to my rescue with my homework. Most of the kids would either blame rain, fire, their pet dog or their blind grandfather who mistook their homework for toilet paper. But I had the magical crows which would first break into my fortified room and then launch a tireless attack on my homework. Usually they flew away with it as it was a "prized" possession but there were times when I would submit pages scribbled with nonsense and which was heavily bored to make it seem like crows pecks. Once I even had to collect bird droppings and use it to decorate my homework.
This trend of "blame the crows" continued right through high school, college and then my adult life. I couldn't attend the high school prom because the crows had abducted my "secret" date ( seriously). I would have had a completely normal arm if it hadn't been for the crows which kept abducting my girlfriends. I would have been married with three kids but I'm afraid that my kids might turn out black ( ample proof of a crow being the father though getting a DNA test done on him would be difficult). It was when this fixation went from bad to worse that I started going to a therapist. Actually, the paper printed out the ad wrongly and I read it as "the rapist" and thought of giving my sex life a boost.
Well, the therapy sessions helped me a lot and I started not hating the crows. I even got a job as an attendant at a glamorous hotel. I was seeing someone and was actually thinking of marrying him when things changed completely.
It had been a normal day and I was helping out a lodger as usual. For no apparent reason, he got violent. I tried to reason out with him and this seemed to incense him even further. He got physical with me and at the end of it, he hurled a telephone at me. This incident triggered off the hate in me again.
I hate Crowes now.
Alright, that's not entirely true though I am not disputing the fact that it could be false either. But as a kid, I always had a grudge against 'em crows. Yes, they did shit on me more than statistically probable but so did my lil' niece but I never did hold it against her. I adore her and still do. In fact, I gift her Barbie on her birthdays. This year I sent her Barbie's head and now all that is left incomplete of the Barbie are her arms.
Coming back to the crows, I never did know when I started hating them but it was soon after the incident involving a murder of crows who swooped down on me and tried to penetrate through my diaper. How was I to know that crow eggs did not constitute as a toy then; I was a kid for cryin' out loud. Yet they chose attack me. I didn't remember much of the incident but when I was told about it, the seeming incongruous anecdote about the botched circumcision seemed a little fishy. And I am still under the impression that the crows are not completely satisfied with their handiwork. I have often spotted a few of them sharpening their beaks right outside my restroom window.
Well, anyways, there was a period when I used to blame everything on the crows. I used to like eating by the balcony but if the stuff I was eating wasn't palaptable (as most of the food was back then), I used to make little missiles and throw them out. My mum never did find out about this till three weeks into my escapade. I got a little careless and chucked most of the food on my mom, who was returning back from the market. Well, I did manage to get out of it but it took a lot of quick thinking. I had to scratch my arms rather badly and then blame it on the poorly fed crows that lurched outside our balcony. From that day on I made it a point to pelt the crows with a little rice and curry; it would make my claims look genuine.
Then the crows came to my rescue with my homework. Most of the kids would either blame rain, fire, their pet dog or their blind grandfather who mistook their homework for toilet paper. But I had the magical crows which would first break into my fortified room and then launch a tireless attack on my homework. Usually they flew away with it as it was a "prized" possession but there were times when I would submit pages scribbled with nonsense and which was heavily bored to make it seem like crows pecks. Once I even had to collect bird droppings and use it to decorate my homework.
This trend of "blame the crows" continued right through high school, college and then my adult life. I couldn't attend the high school prom because the crows had abducted my "secret" date ( seriously). I would have had a completely normal arm if it hadn't been for the crows which kept abducting my girlfriends. I would have been married with three kids but I'm afraid that my kids might turn out black ( ample proof of a crow being the father though getting a DNA test done on him would be difficult). It was when this fixation went from bad to worse that I started going to a therapist. Actually, the paper printed out the ad wrongly and I read it as "the rapist" and thought of giving my sex life a boost.
Well, the therapy sessions helped me a lot and I started not hating the crows. I even got a job as an attendant at a glamorous hotel. I was seeing someone and was actually thinking of marrying him when things changed completely.
It had been a normal day and I was helping out a lodger as usual. For no apparent reason, he got violent. I tried to reason out with him and this seemed to incense him even further. He got physical with me and at the end of it, he hurled a telephone at me. This incident triggered off the hate in me again.
I hate Crowes now.
This entry was posted
on Wednesday, July 13, 2005 at 5:46 PM.
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