Feeling a brisk crispness in the air, I decided to take a little walk around the town this morning. Get the blood flowing, see the neighbors out and about, and remind myself that small town America still existed.
I headed South on Willow Avenue and made a move to turn East onto 9th Street when suddenly I was stopped in my tracks by the most horrifying sound I knew: leaves rustling. I drew in a breath and swung around and sure enough, there was a pack of leaves right behind me.
“What’s the hurry, pal?” said one of the leaves, the “leader” as far as I could tell.
“Yeah, yeah, what’s the hurry?” another leaf chimed in. The leader finished his cigarette and tossed it to the ground.
I sized them up quickly. Common ruffians, out for a good time even if it meant hurting an innocent human. But they’d messed with the wrong guy…. because I wasn’t an innocent human. You see, back in ’82, I had a run-in with a pile of leaves. It was Autumn, a day… not unlike today. I was in my backyard, raking, and when I had finished the whole yard, there was one big freakin’ pile of leaves. So I did what any red-blooded, two-eyed, ten-toed American boy would do, I got a running start and I jumped in those leaves. In the moment before I hit, just as I was hovering in the air over the huge heap, I heard hurried whispers: “You take his arms…” “Make sure and gag him…” “I’ll get the shoelaces…” Sensing danger, I tried to turn around in mid-air, but gravity… gravity’s a cruel mistress.
I slammed into the pile expecting the worst. I sat frozen in the leaves and for a spilt second, there wasn’t a sound, a bird chirped in the distance, a car honked, and then… the hell began. One leave grabbed my arm and pulled it behind my back, another got my leg and did the same. Soon, all of my appendages were held behind my back. You see, leaves is stupid animals; they didn’t know which appendage humans use to fight back, or shoot guns with. They figured if they just disabled all of my appendages, I’d have no way to retaliate. They were wrong. I dug deep down into my gut and used the most shattering, only-break-in-case-of-emergency weapon I had at my disposal. I called for my mom.
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooooom!”
A pause.
“…”
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooooom!”
Another pause. I was getting worried. I wrenched my neck around to catch a glimpse of my house. My mom was right there, in the window, waving at me. She thought I was playing. She thought the whole thing was a game. A game. And perhaps it was. But it was a deadly game of cat and mouse. And the mouse was in the trap. I, being the mouse… and the leaves, collectively, being… the… cat. Yes.
I panicked, I saw my whole life flash before my eyes. It had bad production values and no discernible story arc. What’s worse, the special effects in my life were still in post-production, so they had just inserted “Scene Missing” cards. I knew I couldn’t end it now; I couldn’t go out like this.
Then I remembered! Leaves are plants! Plants need water and light to survive! They need chlorophyll to convert the sun’s energy to food! And the chlorophyll molecule requires the element magnesium for its structure!
I was just about to come up with an elaborate plan to deny my leaven foes their precious magnesium when I further remembered that leaves have no muscles or tendons or bones or any real way of holding me down. …! I wrenched out of their insidious grasp with the speed of a jungle cat! A smallish jungle cat with Lyme disease… but a jungle cat nonetheless!!
I stared at the pile of vermin with extreme contempt, and I decided right then and there: I would be their last victim. I heroically raked them into a garbage and bag and with cunning accuracy tied the twisty-tie around the top. These leaves would bother no man… ever again. And so that’s why I guess I wasn’t afraid when I was accosted by this pack of leaves on my morning walk. I just turned around slowly and faced the unruly mob.
“Leaves! All of ya, just leaves!”
I meant it as more of a psychological threat, demeaning them by telling them they were merely plant parts, but they took it that I was an Italian mobster telling them to leave. Either way, the leaves left. And I finished the walk.
I leave my tale as a warning. To all of you walking about this autumn, and remarking how lovely it is with the leaves turning. You bite your tongue… and watch they don’t turn on you.