Chicken Cobra

"Kawaaaah, a-wah a-wah a-wah a-wah!"

So went the soundtrack bassline of the average spring morning in Guano Landings, an upper middle class subdivision nestled in the mid-Atlantic town of Long Neck. Within a few minutes, the orchestra would be joined by the hissing of the automated sprinklers, while they ensured a rich, dark shade of green for the tall fescue lawns. The chorus of teenagers headed to school in their Dodge Challengers and F-250s completed the ensemble.

"Kawaaaah, a-wah a-wah a-wah a-wah!"

But those damn geese wouldn’t stop. Every spring, they’d descend onto the neighborhood pond like Cousin Eddie and family at Christmas time. Only they didn’t have the decency to clean the shitter in the storm drain. Nope. The entire walkway around the pond became littered with tiny black, white, and green sausages.

"Kawaaaah, a-wah a-wah a-wah a-wah!"

Like Storm Troopers from the Death Star, they decide to march across the roadways during rush hour at the rate of a tectonic plate. Got an important appointment at 8? Make sure to add ten minutes of goose waiting. And don’t be aggressive with them, or you’ll feel the wrath of Phyllis Grandung and her Nextdoor posts defending the plump grey, white, and black beasts.

Kyle Hopper tightened the collar around the leash of Penny, his two-year old Golden Retriever. “All right, girl,” he said, “no chasing the birds today, okay?” Penny looked up with her dark golden fur and cute little black nose as they headed on their way.

Along the way, they’d pass a number of old men watching their sprinklers, grabbing their newspapers, and walking their Pomeranians and making small talk. They were okay people, but Kyle never had the time to get to know them as a career night shift guy. It was the beginning of their day, but the end of Kyle’s. They passed by good old Earl, the pleasant octogenarian decked out in his dark blue bathrobe.

“Morning, Mr. Earl!” Kyle shouted.

“Morning, Kevin!” Earl shouted back. Kyle never corrected him on his name, but at least the old coot used one that began with a ‘K” this time.

“Grass is growing pretty nicely!” Kyle commended.

“Well, they got that new quarterback, so we’ll see if they can make the playoffs,” Earl replied. Kyle grinned and went about his way with Penny, who had her sniffing nose to the ground reading her morning “pee mails.”

The duo turned the corner onto Guano drive as they approached the neighborhood playground. There, he’d let Penny off the leash and allow her to do a little exploring. They had an unspoken understanding that Kyle would let her play, and she’d behave so Kyle didn’t end up with a police citation or HOA violation.

“Kawaaaah.”

He unclipped her leash from the collar, and grabbed a seat on the green metal park bench. He took his small bag, reached in, and pulled out a cold, leftover Chinese sparerib. His front teeth pulled at the tight meat, covered in bright red glaze.

"Kawaaaah, a-wah a-wah a-wah a-wah!"

Penny worked her way around the pond vegetation, exploring every creak and crevice, trying to figure out which one of her friends had been to the park recently. Every few minutes, she’d squat and pee, leaving her scent. Except for chasing the occasional bunny, Penny would quietly go about her business.

“Grrrrrrrrrr, roof, roof, roof!” Penny growled and barked at a tall, thick patch of pond weed.

“Shhhhhh, shh, shh, what’s going on girl?” asked Kyle as he rose out of his seat to investigate.

"Kawaaaah, a-wah a-wah a-wah a-wah! Flap flap flap flap!’

Out of the brush emerged the devil incarnate. Wings flared with a span of over 4 feet, neck elongated like a big black snake, and its bill emitting the most frightening hissing sound. He set his eyes on the hairy, 4-legged Alf lookalike.

Kyle’s warrior instincts kicked in, fiercely defending his pup more ferociously than he defended FOB Wilson in Afghanistan back in 2011. But “Goocifer” had other plans.

Flipping, flapping, hissing, the evil cobra chicken turn its attention to Kyle. It aimed for his face and eyes while Penny barked to no avail. Despite earning two Bronze Stars with Valor, Kyle was never comfortable in combat.

“Get the fuck out!” he yelled as he protected his face with his arm.

The hellish honker remained hovered like an old fashioned helicopter prototype, wobbling in midair and seemingly defying physics. One last extension of his neck, and it grabbed hold of Kyle’s sparerib, quickly pulling it out of his hand before retreating back into the brush.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Kyle, his face now ghost-white and heart beating a mile a minute. He inspected Penny for any injuries, looked around 360 degrees, and reattached her leash. “Let’s get out of here, girl!”

Walking in through his garage door, he smelled a fresh pot of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, a sign his wife Jennifer had finally woken up for work.

“Morning babe, what the hell is wrong?” she asked a disheveled Kyle.

“Honey,” he began as his hands shook, “you won’t believe this. One of the geese attacked Penny at the playground. I tried to break it up, but then it started attacking me!”

“Oh my God!” she asked, “are you okay?”

“I mean, yeah,” he said, “it’s just…um, that was scary as shit!”

“I’d imagine,” she concurred, “how did you get it to stop?”

“I didn’t,” he replied, “it just grabbed my Chinese sparerib and disappeared.”

“It grabbed your what?” she asked perplexed.

“The leftover sparerib. It grabbed it and took off,” he explained.

Jennifer poured her coffee into her silver monogrammed mug, mixing in three Splenda and a splash of half and half.

“Kyle,” she asked, “why the fuck were you eating a Chinese sparerib on your 5 a.m. walk?”

Kyle breathed in deeply through his nose while exhaling through his mouth. “Do you remember earlier this morning when I came home?” he asked.

“No, what happened?” Jennifer asked.

“I came home at 4:30, opened the fridge, saw that you and the kids got Chinese food last night. I grabbed the bag of ribs and started to eat them until you came out and told me I was eating them too loudly. So, I decided to take Penny for a walk and bring the ribs with me. And thank God I did, because it was the only thing that saved me from the goose.”

There was a long pause as Jennifer slowly took her first sip of coffee. “So, are you saying this was my fault?” she asked.

“No, not at all, why?” he asked.

“It sounds like you’re once again blaming me for something that happened to you!” Jennifer exclaimed.

“Um,” Kyle retorted, “it sounds like you’re looking for reasons to make this about you getting your feelings hurt.”

“Okay,” Jennifer interjected, “here you go again. I’m off to work. The girls are buying lunch at school today.”

“Why are you leaving so early?” he asked.

“Because I have better things to do than to listen to your bullshit stupid stories,” she replied as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

Kyle opened the back porch door and made his way to one of the aqua blue Adirondack chairs. He scrolled through his phone as he gnawed on his remaining sparerib while reading the MLB box scores. The sweetness of the red glaze with the savory flavor of the fatty rib would make him get lost in moments of bliss.

“Hello! You back here?” shouted a familiar voice from the side gate. Kyle rose and peered around the corner to see good old Earl standing at the gate, still in his robe.

“Yeah I’m here Mr. Earl, what do you need sir?” Kyle asked.

“Oh nothing,” the old man replied, “I just heard all this loud noise back here and figured I’d check it out. If y’all don’t mind, we like to keep it quiet here in the early morning!”

Off in the distance, a lone bugler sounded his horn.

"Kawaaaah, a-wah a-wah a-wah a-wah!"