Even on this windy, windy November's day, the sound ricocheted off buildings.
"What the hell was that?" David asked.
I looked around wildly. "I don't know, I don't know!" My shoulder ached a bit.
"Are you okay? Were you hit?" David gave me the once over, checking for blood.
"I think maybe... I don't know what it... what the... WHAT THE?!?" There, on my right shoulder was the bullet. Green, about 2 inches long by 1/2 inch wide. Shot from the ass of a Canada Goose, still wending its navigationally-challenged way north-west, hundreds of feet above me. The winged beast was honking in elation "SUCKER! SUCKER! SUCKER!!"
"Oh God! GOD! I've been hit! I've been HIT!!! It was a fly-by!" I felt faint, but I didn't want to move my head too much in case I got goose shit in my eye.
"Hold on, hold on," David said. "You're okay... it's okay." Chivalrously, he reached down and grabbed some freshly fallen maple leaves, using them to wipe the goosey bomb off me. The turd actually made a thumping noise when it hit the ground. We both jumped back, examining it.
"That's some shit."
"That's not like a little seagull turd."
"They say that getting bird poop on you is good luck."
"I'm feeling pretty lucky that it didn't hit me in the head. I'd be dead now."
"TURD TERMINAL VELOCITY."
"Seriously though, you're okay?" He was looking me over, all concerned for my well-being.
"Yes, yes I'm... HOLY FUCK!!! MOTHER OF... MY EYE!" In the wind, a maple leaf had apparently decided to commit hari kari on my face.
"Was that a leaf?"
"YES. STEM. DIRECTLY IN MY EYE. IS THERE BLOOD? IS THE EYE STILL IN ITS SOCKET?"
For the rest of the walk I was like an informant, waiting to be taken out. Things always come in threes... That third thing was there, lying in wait... It had to be coming...