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Fear Works Better Than Coffee

Jokes were cracked. Gossip was spilt. Laughter filled the air. Life was simple and our problems trivial. Our ballet flats and tennis shoes stuck and slopped along the path to high school. The pathway thinned to a skinny little sidewalk that had been splitting up trios (including the Three Musketeers) since 1995. I took the lead and started trudging through the forest towards the football field. As I walked, I turned my ears backwards to stay in my friend’s conversation. I half paid attention to where I stepped. Mid listening attempt, the trees off to one side started rustling. First quiet, then all at once. I didn’t wait to see what the cause of the sound was. Fight or flight activated like a smoke alarm when you forget your quesadilla on the pan. And I chose flight. I jumped back behind my best friend, instinctively pushed her in front of me, and started shuffling back. She screamed, frantically asking “What is it?! What is it?!”. I had no clue. I just knew that such a loud sound must mean a large animal. A deer? A bear? A man? Who knows. I didn’t care. I could feel my blood pumping overtime under my skin. Finally, I caught a glimpse of what was causing all that ruckus. An armadillo emerged from the brush, charging across the path two feet in front of us. My adrenaline quickly transmuted into embarrassment when I realized I just used my very best friend as a human shield against an itty bitty armadillo. In my defense though, I always imagined armadillos living in an arid and crackly desert. Or dead in the middle of a road. Definitely not in a swampy forest. Rango’s spirit guide had made a long journey just to spook my friends and I. We all doubled over in pain as we cackled and wheezed all the way to school. Who needs coffee, when you can have all the energy you’ll need jump-scared into you? I can never see an armadillo now without reminiscing on our encounter with the revered, and sometimes feared, common armadillo.