Most people still get scared from time to time. I, on the other hand, have found the formula* that conquers all fear.
Nothing can pierce my fear armor. All fear bounces off me like water on a duck’s back. Fear fears me. Before this superhero transformation happened, there were probably some things I might get worked up over and flee from in sheer, blind terror. So in the spirit of ‘relating to my readers’, I list a few things I would probably be terrified of, if I still had the capacity to fear anything:
…that house calling, high-on-life Mormon/Jehovah Witness knocking on my door. Should I hide under the bed? Did they already hear me moving around? WHAT DO I DO? HELP!!!
…that intoxicated, barely standing, incoherent homeless person that wants to give me scabies or look for lost coins in my pockets.
…Oakland Raiders’ fans. Any sports fan from Philadelphia. People that watched XFL (Xtreme Football League) when it existed.
…that stud-collared rottweiler that enjoys hunting the slow and weak and savours the sweet, sweet taste of my crushed windpipe.
…standing on the edge of a precipitously high cliff, without the benefit of a guard rail, a rope or me not being anywhere near the cliff in the first place.
…those typical blood-curdling screams one hears when walking alone in the woods at night.
…those unflushed, overflowing public toilets after a particularly harrowing (but delicious) binge of unidentifiable street food in some random country.
…being the last in line for Thanksgiving desert and not getting any pumpkin pie.#
…those surely to be lurking lake sea monsters swimming right under my flailing legs as I bob helplessly after an epic waterskiing crash. Why isn’t the boat coming back faster? AHH! I CAN SEE DARK SHAPES MOVING!
…that person with the painted chest, screaming himself hoarse while I’m trying to enjoy watching my sports team beat his sports team. When he goes silent and looks in my direction, I used to run.
…Donald Trump for President.
…being left alone with someone’s grandparents that I’ve never met before. Me: ‘So…do you blog?’ (looks of confusion. silence.) Me: ‘Ah, well…Jon Stewart is hilarious, no? (Grandpa leaves.) Me: ‘Hmmm…can I take a photo of your cat? LOL.’ Grandma: ‘Don’t you come back here no more!’
* Formula: Two parts self-denial, a dash of delusion, a pinch of overconfidence, crushed ice and a splash of aguardiente. Shaken not stirred. Set to flame. Serve.
** I’m still shuttering from remembering when I used to shutter when viewing these stupid cat photos.
# I used to get night sweats and bolt upright in bed while dreaming of this terrifying possibility.