Bad ass mofo

Yes indeed, dating back to my childhood I had a problem, that problem was the word pigeon. Well, pigeons the word pigeon and cows to be precise, but the main adversary being the word pigeon.  I would refer to pigeons by anything but their proper names: "shit birds" - "rats with feathers" - "urban hackey sack", literally anything but their proper name.  Not entirely for the disdain, sheer hatred or the like, but rather the fact I could not pronounce the word itself. Pigeon, simple enough, right? One would think. 

So, having avoided the word altogether my entire youth, save the occasions that my family would make me say it to 'eff with me and laugh,  the word would come out: "PINGEON".  Sound it out with me PINGE-UN, pretty impaired I must say.  Now, avoiding my word issue poses another perplexity, this very problem following me from the shadows of youth into adulthood.  Yes, up until the time I was twenty-five I continued to pronounce the word pigeon as pingeon.  Not until a Speech Therapy intervention did I kick the pingeon pronunciation for good.  However, the more I tried the worse it got, the more nervous I became the worse it got, the therapist made me recite vowels and sounds.  Hell, she even made me pronounce words with a button in my mouth.  But finally I kicked the pingeon, literally kicked the pingeon for good.

Fast forward untill today.  Minding my own business, driving down one of the many high-ways and by-ways of this fine land I spot it out of the corner of my eye, the periphery mind you, something.  Something indeed.  Now, having just left a two hour defensive driving training I came very well prepared for such an occurance.  "I got this", I think to myself, having just learned that all one needs to know on tackling such a daunting task. I learned today that turning your head 12 degrees one can gain full sight of an object to the side, therefore, I naturally swivel my head an entire 90 degrees with cat like reflexes.  This "something" or other being none other than, yes, a pingeon flying directly towards my opened window at 70mph.  How do I deal with such a conundrum? Do I reflect back on my recent defensive driving lessons? Do I pull knowledge from the archives of my drivers education classes from high-school?  Do I allow said bird fly amok inside of my ride? No, no and no.  I go full on ninja style kung fu and punch that shit-bird with a piggy hi-yah in mid flight permanently altering its path towards the open window, resulting in what one may call an epiphany of badassery, otherwise known as a feather explosion.  All the while keeping to my intended route unscathed, with feathers hugging the aerodynamics of German engineering I continue on my way.  Crisis averted and none worse the wear, this situation resulted in something I already know, I am one bad ass mofo, a bad ass ninja-kung fu mofo.