Ostrich

Ostrich
Originally uploaded by mryosemite.

I'm reading a book of short stories and as background for a particular story, it gives the stats of how many people die each year at the hands of certain animals. It includes statistics on the number of deaths caused by lions, tigers, and bears- oh my! They claim that worldwide, there have been at least 8 recorded cases in which someone was killed by an Ostrich. Apparently, the Ostrich has extremely powerful legs and in fact, they can literally kick someone to death.

Now, I'd like to believe that when we reach the after life, we'll all be considered equal. Unlike high school, there won't be any jocks, geeks, brains, nerds, loners, stoners, etc. However, when a person admits he was killed by an Ostrich, he's still going to be labeled a "geek"- even in heaven.

I wonder, when you arrive at the pearly gates and St. Peter records your entry, is the paperwork anything like a coroner's report? Does he have a list of 8 million causes for death? Is "Ostrich" one of the options?

Picture this; you're in a long line waiting to get into heaven. One at a time, each person steps up and St. Peter says, "Welcome to heaven, how did you die?" You hear responses like, "Bear attack.", or "Gun shot wound.", or "Car wreck.". When your turn comes, you announce, "An Ostrich kicked me." St. Peter looks at you with a raised eyebrow and asks, "Then what happened?" You say, "That's it. That's all. I was at the zoo feeding an Ostrich. When I ran out of food, it kicked me and I died." In disbelief, St. Peter asks, You're kidding...right?" With your head hung low and your tail tucked between your legs, in a barely audible voice, you admit "It's true."

So, St. Peter looks at his list, but he can't find a listing for "Ostrich". He explains that he rarely has to do this, but he'll have to put you down as "Other". He then hands you a t-shirt. He instructs you to put the shirt on and sit in the corner. In the corner, you view a couple of other real "winners". You ask St. Peter why the others are there. He explains that the man sitting there is an Eskimo. "Yesterday morning, he stepped out of his igloo to get the newspaper. He tripped over a baby seal that was sleeping on his door step. When he fell, he hit his head on a block of ice and died instantly (apparently the Eskimo was planning to add another room onto his igloo and hence, the spare block of ice). Cause of Death...Baby Seal."

St Peter then explains that "The woman sitting there is was one of those crazy cat ladies. You know the kind that I'm talking about. There's one in every neighborhood. She's the one that has a minimum of 8 cats on her doorstep at all times. 6 cats sitting in the yard and a couple on the fences. That doesn't include the dozen cats that are inside crapping all over the place. Her front yard is overgrown with weeds and the grass hasn't been mowed in twelve years. Anyway, the other night, in the middle of her sleep, she suddenly woke up choking. Cause of Death...Hair Ball."

After hearing all of this, you hang your head even lower and you walk over to join your new buddies. These will be your new friends for eternity, after all, who wants to hang out with someone that was killed by an Ostrich? You unfold your shirt and start to put it on. The front of the shirt says, "I was literally too stupid to live." On the back, it says, "Survival of the fittest: I was thinned from the herd."

To top things off, your name happens to be Oscar. Needless to say, you quickly adopt the nickname of Oscar the Ostrich (and every other conceivable combination).

Oh, and good luck meeting any cute girls. What's your pickup line going to be? "Hi, it's nice to meet you, my name is Oscar. I was killed by a big bird that can't fly."

Anyway, to make a long story short, if I'm ever killed by an Ostrich, hear me now and believe me later, I'm going to lie about it. In fact, I'm going to lie my ass off. I don't care if God strikes me down. I don't care if I get labeled as the "town liar". I'm telling people that I was killed by a bear. Or perhaps I was hit by a bus. Or, maybe I was hit by a bear that was driving a bus. But for the love of God, I'm NOT telling anyone that I was killed by a damn Ostrich!