Have you ever been in a situation of doing something, and you look
around at what’s going on, and just panic because nothing makes any logical sense?
Like standing in a dark alley with a bunch of gang members betting on which
chicken, Paco or William Shakespeare, would win in a fight? Now I haven’t done
anything as mad as that but I certainly have been in a relatively similar
situation, unfortunately, without dark alleys or chickens or gang members, but
nonetheless very interesting and nonsensical. And somehow I am able to manage
to put a universal theme into it that actually somehow applies to an extent,
and will maybe possibly inspire or relate to your hearts.
In the summer, I
often go to my friend Katlynn’s house to play games or hang out and whatnot. Well, at
this particular time, she was in Michigan visiting family, and her mom asked me
to stop by to do some chores before I went to youth group. It was rather basic;
I merely needed to feed the animals, clean up a thing or two, and cut down an
absurdly large pack of weeds. The first two were simply done of course, but
then I met my challenge. A five foot high, three by six patch of weeds that
makes jungle action movies look like child’s play. Now Michelle, Katie’s mom,
met me at my titan to slay, and I was presented with a choice of two tools. I
could either use a weed whacker, like any other sensible human being, or a
simple, but very sharp machete. So of course I chose to wield a mighty sword to
destroy this titan! Then assuredly, after a lengthy battle, it is slain. Twenty
straight minutes of hacking, fiercely cutting down masses of weeds at a time,
it is only a challenge of time, not skill. My clothes are spattered with the
grass clippings of my enemy, and I have achieved victory. But yet our warrior
is not done fighting.
Soon after I hear
the shots of a BB gun ringing from the forest, beckoning me to come stand to
the challenge. My mighty sword is sheathed, and I travel towards the continuous
gunfire. I am yet presented with a scene so bizarre that it took me a minute to
process. There is Michelle (Katlynn’s mother), and a friend from my youth
group, Jake, firing a BB pistol at the top of a tree, in which, perched at the
top, is their pet turkey. So naturally I take careful, calm steps to assess the
situation.
“WHAT THE HECK
GUYS WHY ARE YOU SHOOTING THE TURKEY!?!?” I proclaim in a calm, yet firm tone
of voice. They then rather poorly explain
“The turkey is stuck at the very top of the tree so we are shooting
at it in order to make it fly down to the ground safely.” I thought this idea
was absolutely ridiculous, why would you shoot a poor, defenseless animal with
a BB gun to get it to plummet out of a tree, frantically flapping its wings in
distress in order to not be killed? Now they did try climbing the tree, but it
was simply far too tall and the branches were terribly small, impossible to get
a foothold. And I mean this tree was very VERY tall, I could hardly see the top
of it, even though it was only 8-10 inches thick. I didn’t even like this
turkey; I still don’t. It pecks at me every time I try to say hi, and always
looks as dark and brooding as Batman thinking about his parents. Though
nonetheless, I didn’t want the turkey to be tortured! He and I may not have
gotten along well but if anyone can pull off the Batman look they have earned
my respect. For the record, I did try to shoot it down a few times, but seeing
the futility of the matter, I gave up on it. Still armed with my machete, and
as if there was a flickering lightbulb, barely producing anything worthwhile,
hovering above my head, I developed an idea.
My idea was
simple, but by no means easy. I walked up to the tree, dew my Excalibur, and
swung. Some of the bark chipped off, but it’s hardly dented the monster.
Michelle and Jake were confused for a moment, but eventually got the idea and
let me keep going, watching carefully to make sure I didn’t accidentally kill
myself. I kept swinging, unfazed by my lack of progress with swing #1. This
tree was getting progress, but it hasn’t budged nearly at all. I was trying to
slay the Hydra with a kitchen knife, Goliath with a slingshot, trying to tell
the Kardashians to just stop already, etc. Eventually, progress was actually
made. I made a one inch indent, a two inch indent, and so on and so forth. I
swung, sometimes even trying to switch sides of the tree, but no luck came to
me. My arms felt like rubber, but was I going to let Jake get the honor of
slaying this fiend? Heck no. The tree eventually got to almost cartoonish
proportions, I even tried to push the thing to break, because it genuinely
looked like all it needed was a slight push and the thing would snap in half.
This has been
going on another 20 minutes now, meaning I’ve been holding this weapon for
nearly an hour, swinging frantically for just about every minute of it. So I
was tired, Michelle and Jake are sitting down talking about something I didn’t
care to listen to, and the tree mocked me with its mighty willpower to stand
strong. Then, it happened. Tree Wars V: The Tree Strikes Back.My new method of chopping from over the head
has failed me, and I took a blow by my own traitorous tool. Looking back on it,
I understand. That machete was getting mangled; of course it would decide to
switch to the Dark Side on me. I took a slice to the face, right near the eye,
from the sharpest point of the machete. I winced in pain, and Michelle thought
I had blinded myself. I quickly wiped my face on my shirt (which even now, has
a blood stain as a result), to check if I could still see. I’m always up for a
cool eye scar, but to be blinded? Not happening. Thankfully I was not, and by a
miracle of God Himself, I only hit myself in the part between the nose and eye.
Naturally I wanted to finish my job. Michelle just wasn’t having it, and she
sent me to the house to bandage myself so it doesn’t get infected. I groaned,
but accepted, hoping my foe would face me again upon my return, ready to finish
the battle of the ages. I retreated to her house and bandaged my cut with a
nice Frozen Band-Aid, and sat for a bit to gather myself. I was highly
excited, thinking I get to cut down a tree and get a cool eye scar in
the process? Amazing! But this was unfortunately not the case. Like America
in WWI, Jake stepped in at the last moment and stole my glory. He had slain the
dying dragon, leaving me as merely a wounded hero in the castle. I was broken.
My dragon was slain and I didn’t even get to deal the finishing blow. It
genuinely felt like those moments where the nearly useless member of a group
project who just sat on their phone the whole time then acts like they did all
of the work. But nevertheless, the turkey is saved and somehow not dead, though
it did get a scratch in on Jake for my sake, and the tree had been destroyed.
It was a bittersweet moment in my life.
So like any
victorious warrior, I walked with my head high and proud as I told brief
iterations of my grand story to people. Then Jake, every single time at church,
said that I “stabbed myself in the face trying to chop down a tree,” which was
absolutely ridiculous, it was the tree’s fault. Someone even asked me about why
I had a Band-Aid on my face, and when I told them the story, they laughed it
off until I stared blankly at them with a dead serious, turkey-worthy
expression on my face. They then were in awe at my adventurous prowess. Though
unfortunately the scar only bothered to last a mere month. Which, it probably
would have lasted longer if I didn’t slap Elsa and Anna on my face to stop it
from being exposed. This all just shows that our lives can have absolutely
crazy experiences, whether you qualify watching a cat on the internet tap away
at a keyboard, hunting caribou in your underwear with only an ice pick, or
fearlessly attack a tree to save a turkey in distress and accidentally slash
yourself in the face with the very tool you used to cut it down. The turkey
still hates me, by the way.
Points: 344
Reviews: 126
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