In my last post, I mentioned briefly about my childhood experience with animals and how my Grandparents had a "Farm". When you are a small child that lives in a neighborhood close to a major city, you are not usually used to seeing goats or pigs on a daily basis. So when I would go visit my Grandma, in a smaller town further outside the city than I, and there was a 'barn' and barn yard like animals and space to run around that was still their land; It was easy to consider such a place, "a farm".
There were no crops, and like I said before, their house is probably on two or three acres of land. Nothing large enough to be considered a farm. They simply lived in the country and APPARENTLY that is what people that live in the country do; you live in the country you have a few acres of land, and maybe some animals. Crazy!
But to five year old me, CLEARLY, this was a Farm. I told people my Grandparents had a farm. I would draw pictures of a BIG RED BARN (which they did not have, just more of a stable like building for the horses) and all sorts of barn yard animals, and for the hell of it, a silo. I didn't know what the hell a silo was, but THEY HAD ONE, DAMMIT (no they didn't). And because I had learned to draw corn, corn. Did the grow corn? Maybe a few times in my Grandma's garden, but never enough to be considered more than a garden.
But to five year old me, CLEARLY, this was a Farm. I told people my Grandparents had a farm. I would draw pictures of a BIG RED BARN (which they did not have, just more of a stable like building for the horses) and all sorts of barn yard animals, and for the hell of it, a silo. I didn't know what the hell a silo was, but THEY HAD ONE, DAMMIT (no they didn't). And because I had learned to draw corn, corn. Did the grow corn? Maybe a few times in my Grandma's garden, but never enough to be considered more than a garden.
A lot of my childhood was spent here on weekends. They lived close by and my Mom was very close to her parents, so when they would have boring conversations about people that were not me, I would either go watch movies in the GREEN room (it had green carpet. Thus: green room) or go outside and wonder around "the farm." I spent most of my time in the amazing tree fort that was built for me by the Easter Bunny one year. This was before the whole chocolate bunny incident. If he found out about that he probably wouldn't have taken the time to build me such an awesome place. I spent a lot of time talking to the animals, visiting Roxanne the horse and the feral cats that lived in the barn, Tina Turner the Goat or Oprah the Pig.
(I! LOVE! BACOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!)
I still love to walk around and look at everything in the WILD (clearly) and adventure. Even though the land behind their property has been developed and theres no creeks or forests to investigate. Even if all those animals are lone gone. But lets not talk about that. Lets go back to the time when there were random farm animals everywhere. When there was still a pig bucket and my Grandma had a second pig named Porkchop and when my grandma got....the Turkeys.
Yes. At one point in time my grandma had two lovable turkeys by the names of Bill and Hillary. I want to say that she had a third named Monica. But I could be wrong. But for hilarities sake, lets pretend that there was one named Monica. And she loved those dumb birds. Bill was an idiot who liked to strut for the ladies, who honestly could care less. Bill also had a habit of chasing my Grandpa when he would ride around on the riding lawn mower. Bill....Bill was special.
I don't remember much of Hillary and the possibly imaginary Monica, but I do remember Bill like it was yesterday. That bird hated me. And to this day, I will swear to you that he was trying to kill me.
As I mentioned, I spent a lot of time outside. My Grandma will probably tell you I am lying and that I spent most of my time sitting in front of the television or eating. Which may be true, but this is my goddamn story Grandma, so I'm going to pretend I was an adorable outdoorsy child who was scared of bugs and dirt. So quiet Grandma! I hear you judging me.
So in my imaginary childhood, I spent a lot of time outside talking to animals and asking them important questions about life. But most of the time I just sat in the barn or garage and bothered the feral cats that did NOT want to be my friends, even though I only wanted to love them. I cannot tell you how many scratches I had from those damn inbred wild beasts (that I only wanted to cuddle).
Did I mention I wore rubber boots around their house? Because of snakes and stickers and mud. Just imagine adorable little me in shorts, a spiderman t-shirt, a mullet and rubber boats. I was the cutest kid ever. If I had a picture I would share. Lets pretend this is me being adorable:
(BAW)
So the Turkeys were trying to kill me. Okay...Hillary and "Monica" could care less if I came near them or not. Usually they ran away when I approached and waddled over to another part of the pasture. But Bill...Bill was an evil bastard that wanted to peck me to death. He practically ruined my outdoorsy adventurous side as a child. I think he is also the main reason why Turkey is one of my favorite meats. I would be minding my own business, going to visit Tina Turner and Roxanne, and would be assaulted by the little bastard.
(IMMA GET YA)
He always puffed up and started to gobble at me, then he would wobble toward me rather quickly, in a terrifying and offensive fashion, running me back to my grandma's house in sheer terror.
And I would cry. As I did with most situations as a child. And what did my family do? Usually they just laughed at me. Or they would chase Bill back, because apparently he was actually a giant wimp and feared everyone else, except for me. I hated that damn turkey. And anytime Thanksgiving was brought up, I always delighted at the idea of murdering Bill and eating him for dinner. My Grandma was appalled, she loved that damn turkey so much.
After my family had their fill of watching me being tormented by Bill the Turkey, my Grandma decided to pass down an old Chinese secret of hers. See, my Grandma spent a good portion of her younger life traveling across the country, since her Father was in the military. During this time, when she was a child, they lived in China for a year (The year before China became communist. They were on the last boat out of the country with the Nuns and missionaries). During that time she saw probably the worst side of China. The hungry, the poor, people dying on the streets. So she spent a lot of time being accosted by beggars, children asking for money or food. So she learned from (maybe one of the maids...or her Dad...i dont know) something called 'Zuba Zuba'. Basically what she would do was carry around a rather large stick, and when the begger children would come she would wave the stick in front of them and shout "ZUBA ZUBA!" and the children would scatter. I assume this was some sort of superstitious, or maybe it means "I will eat you" or something. Who knows. Hell, my grandma may have been lying about all of it just to make me feel better.
But next thing I know, my Grandma tells me this story, hands me a large stick, and tells me that if Bill bothers me again, to shake the stick at him and yell Zuba Zuba! This will scare him and he will leave me alone.
So poor little old me puts on my rubber boots and my 'magic stick' to go outside and play. I head over to where the barn is and there is Bill. He starts to puff up and gobble and slowly walk toward me. So I pick up my stick and shake it and yell.
Zuba zuba!!!
(This is exactly how he looked)
Zuba...zuba!
Zuba zuba D8
Zuba....Grandmaaaaaa DDDD8
And then he chased me up a tree into my treehouse. Where I stayed, for what felt like hours, as he tried to jump up kill me. My family finally heard (or, again, had enough entertainment of me being tormented) and my Grandma came out and kicked him and he ran off in a panic.
I got down from my tree house, traumatized forever, and my Grandma asked me what happened. I told her that her STUPID Zuba Zuba trick didn't work. And she sort of laughed and mentioned, "You were suppose to HIT him with the stick."
....
WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSE TO KNOW THAT?! YOUR ANCIENT CHINESE MAGIC WAS SUPPOSE TO PROTECT ME FROM THIS EVIL CREATURE, WOMAN :|
So it's pretty safe to say from that day forward I sort of stopped going outside at my Grandma's. I think this was the time when I realized how to use the VHS player by myself and I think I may have also learned how to hook up video game systems, too. I didn't go outside much until after Bill vanished...or died. It's a shame we never ate him. To this day I still hate Turkeys. Thanks for the Complex!
Zuba zuba!
So the Turkeys were trying to kill me. Okay...Hillary and "Monica" could care less if I came near them or not. Usually they ran away when I approached and waddled over to another part of the pasture. But Bill...Bill was an evil bastard that wanted to peck me to death. He practically ruined my outdoorsy adventurous side as a child. I think he is also the main reason why Turkey is one of my favorite meats. I would be minding my own business, going to visit Tina Turner and Roxanne, and would be assaulted by the little bastard.
He always puffed up and started to gobble at me, then he would wobble toward me rather quickly, in a terrifying and offensive fashion, running me back to my grandma's house in sheer terror.
And I would cry. As I did with most situations as a child. And what did my family do? Usually they just laughed at me. Or they would chase Bill back, because apparently he was actually a giant wimp and feared everyone else, except for me. I hated that damn turkey. And anytime Thanksgiving was brought up, I always delighted at the idea of murdering Bill and eating him for dinner. My Grandma was appalled, she loved that damn turkey so much.
After my family had their fill of watching me being tormented by Bill the Turkey, my Grandma decided to pass down an old Chinese secret of hers. See, my Grandma spent a good portion of her younger life traveling across the country, since her Father was in the military. During this time, when she was a child, they lived in China for a year (The year before China became communist. They were on the last boat out of the country with the Nuns and missionaries). During that time she saw probably the worst side of China. The hungry, the poor, people dying on the streets. So she spent a lot of time being accosted by beggars, children asking for money or food. So she learned from (maybe one of the maids...or her Dad...i dont know) something called 'Zuba Zuba'. Basically what she would do was carry around a rather large stick, and when the begger children would come she would wave the stick in front of them and shout "ZUBA ZUBA!" and the children would scatter. I assume this was some sort of superstitious, or maybe it means "I will eat you" or something. Who knows. Hell, my grandma may have been lying about all of it just to make me feel better.
But next thing I know, my Grandma tells me this story, hands me a large stick, and tells me that if Bill bothers me again, to shake the stick at him and yell Zuba Zuba! This will scare him and he will leave me alone.
So poor little old me puts on my rubber boots and my 'magic stick' to go outside and play. I head over to where the barn is and there is Bill. He starts to puff up and gobble and slowly walk toward me. So I pick up my stick and shake it and yell.
Zuba zuba!!!
Zuba...zuba!
Zuba zuba D8
Zuba....Grandmaaaaaa DDDD8
And then he chased me up a tree into my treehouse. Where I stayed, for what felt like hours, as he tried to jump up kill me. My family finally heard (or, again, had enough entertainment of me being tormented) and my Grandma came out and kicked him and he ran off in a panic.
I got down from my tree house, traumatized forever, and my Grandma asked me what happened. I told her that her STUPID Zuba Zuba trick didn't work. And she sort of laughed and mentioned, "You were suppose to HIT him with the stick."
....
WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSE TO KNOW THAT?! YOUR ANCIENT CHINESE MAGIC WAS SUPPOSE TO PROTECT ME FROM THIS EVIL CREATURE, WOMAN :|
So it's pretty safe to say from that day forward I sort of stopped going outside at my Grandma's. I think this was the time when I realized how to use the VHS player by myself and I think I may have also learned how to hook up video game systems, too. I didn't go outside much until after Bill vanished...or died. It's a shame we never ate him. To this day I still hate Turkeys. Thanks for the Complex!
Zuba zuba!
No comments:
Post a Comment