Blitzkrieg

Yesterday I was attacked by wild turkeys. No shit! Dogbert and I were outside when BAM wild friggen turkeys came flying off of MY OWN ROOF to dive bomb us (also, Dogbert = Pansy). Anywho, I got over this trauma and forgot to tell Boo this until we were watching a Louis CK comedy special (FUNNY!) about six hours after he'd been home. When I told my husband this he was appropriately horrified and yet amused that it had taken me this long to tell him. Later, when I showed him the pictures, he changed his mind and decided that Dogbert wasn't the only pansy! I believe, dear internet, that if you look at that pictures, understanding that I had wild friggen turkeys FLYING AT MY HEAD and it wasn't exactly a primo photo-op, you will see things as I do. To wit ...

I had heard something funny upstairs when putting LB down for her nap. I didn't really think about it though and went about my business. Once she was down, I went downstairs to the computer, ready to check my-email and make a C'mas Wish List for LB when I looked up and saw a turkey in the back yard.




Now I'm not particularly bloodthirsty, and I don't have some odd poultry aversion, I do, however, harbor much hate for the wild turkeys lurking in my hood. You see these little shits are dumb. DUMB DUMB DUMB. They block the roads and when you beep, they don't move. No. They just laze around. Annoying though it is, I had my SCREW YOU TURKEYS moment when they blocked my street and driveway and wouldn't let me come home. And I totally had to pee. I almost peed in the car and it was all their fault. So turkeys, only good on my plate, not in my yard. Which is why when I saw that turkey sitting there I thought, "Hmmm. I should let Dogbert out and have her chase the turkey away. Surely that will cause it to leave." And then I though it might be a cute photo-op, so I grabbed the camera and opened the door.

Dogbert and I walked out and I said, "Get 'em!" And Dogbert was all, "Huh?" She took maybe two steps towards it, not really sure what to do when we heard an unholy woosh and a mutherfukin turkey came flying off my mutherfukin roof!



And then there was another and another and they'd land and then chill like I wasn't shrieking, "Get em! Get 'em!" at my killer pooch next to me (which quite frankly is not surprising) ...





Because Dogbert was all, WHAT YOU TALKIN ABOUT WILLIS?



And then I stopped screaming and we hid until there were about twenty turkeys milling about. I had stopped taking pictures while we were hiding because there were turkeys, birds not meant for flight, flying all around us. And it was loud. And it was freaky. But the lack of photographic evidence of the attack of the killer turkeys does not mean that it wasn't horrific. It just means that I have a decent survival instinct.

So anyway, when all was said and done and the turkeys had made their way into the forest, I thought it was safe to come out. Dogbert concurred and actually left my side to do a perimeter check and take a wiz. And it was during this peaceful, idyllic, post-apocalyptic moment, that we heard a noise. A noise on the roof. A noise that triggered our post-traumatic stress response.



One of those fukers was still up on our roof. Needless to say, we turned tail and ran inside. We also may have locked the door because those turkeys may be dumb and lazy, but they may also be dexterous.