An Evening Out

It was a beautiful evening.  The kids were all sleeping over with my mom, so Michael and I had the evening free.  Our friends, Joey and Michelle, invited us over for dinner and a movie.  The food was great, the movie was okay, and the company entertaining.  Finally around 11:30 we pried ourselves off our friends' couch and headed out.  We climbed into the van and waved goodbye.  I put on my seat belt and settled in.  I felt a strange lump under my leg.  I reached over to dislodge what was most probably a child's plaything.  I felt something fuzzy.  I wondered how one of the kids' Zhu Zhu pets got in the car and on my seat.  Then my fingers detected not just a firm, furry object but moisture.  Moisture!  Toys aren't moist.  Animals are moist!  I'm sitting on some sort of animal that crawled into my car and onto my seat.  A RAT!  It's a rat!  In my car!  Under my thigh!  I then proceeded to arch out of my seat (while still buckled) and start screaming and squawking incoherently.  Michael had no idea what was going on.  He thought it had something to do with the fact he had just turned the key in the ignition.  I finally manage to eek out something like, "Animal...seat...arrrr....ahhhh....fuzzy....eeee"  loudly and with a great amount of squealing.

Michael looked over and saw something grey and white on the seat and realized why I was screaming.  He glanced at it and said, "Oh! It's a kitten!".  My body started to relax.  A kitten.  I like kittens.  Kittens sometimes climb into cars.  Kittens are not wild animals that have no reason to be on my seat.  I started to un-arch my body and try to arrange myself so I wouldn't hurt the cute kitten.  Then Michael got a better look and said, "Uh, nope! It's a bird."  A BIRD!  Not as bad as a rat, but still a wild animal that did not belong in my car.  And why had I sat on it?  Why was it there?  Did I kill it?  Or that would have been what I was thinking if I hadn't immediately arched up and started squealing again.  I then decided the best course of action would to be to vacate the car in a calm and orderly fashion.  All I had to do was open my car door and step out.  Instead I proceeded to climb over the center console, climb over Michael, open his car door, and run from the car.  Because apparently birds are terrifying.  It was at this point all my screaming brought our friends from their house to see what was going on.  All they saw was a crazy women mauling her husband.  They weren't sure if there was an emergency or if I was giving Michael a hard time.  They quickly realized something was going on as I fled down the driveway and stood panting on the sidewalk. 

Michael wrapped the bird in toilet paper we happened to have in the car as it was drawing its last breath and placed it in the trash.  It had apparently broken its neck upon entering our vehicle through the partially-opened passenger window.  Meanwhile Michelle was asking me if I was alright.  I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry so I comprised and snorted.  It went like this.  "Katie, what happened?"  "I sat (snorrrrttt) on a (snorrtttt) bird (snooooorrrrrrrttttt)."  I was classy.

I may not freak out all that often but when I do, I go the whole hog.