Some years ago in 1985, I was feeling as low as I have been in my entire life. Mom! My own mother rejected me! Because of this, this, whatever. I tried shaking it off, like a costume, but nothing fell, it just jiggled. Sobbing, I tried pinching myself, to wake me up, but it just hurt. I held up the t-shirt to see what it was that my mom threw at me; it was my old "Religions of the World" shirt, the one that had various philosophies of why "stuff" is happening.
I started to laugh, "Haw, haw, (whinny)!", breaking down into weeping again.
Well, off with the old and on with the new. I took of the raggedy old blue sweater for my shirt. Ironically, it fit well, I was a big to begin with. All the while walking, I tied of the sweater around my human waist, I might need it later. I started thinking what happened. I "left" in early May, "returned" in early August, on the eighth in fact: three months. There must be a reason. Absent-mindedly, I was walking in the general direction of the park where I appeared in. Time seemed to be of little concern to me, for where else did I have to go? Unfortunately, North Portland is a place that nobody should be out in by oneself.
As I was walking along the street, I heard whistles from across the street. Looking up I noticed a group of gang-bangers hooting at me. Some were coming towards me, wonderful. I could see their sneering, leering expresions. I stopped because I noticed that I could see their expressions! My eyesight improved! (I needed glasses before) Hooray for me. Now I could see clearly that I was surrounded by some eight or more toughs.
"Well, whats do we got here?" one asked.
"Lookie like a horsie!" said a blue-capped thug.
"Maybe a spearmint gone FunKY!" was another.
"Please, leave me alone." I asked.
"Wanna have some fun, lady?"
"Sho' you a good time!"
"No, please let me go!"
"Blue's not your color!" one remarked, grabbing my sweater away.
When one of them started grabbing my hindquarters, I had no control, for suddenly, something happened. I leaned forward on my front hooves and kicked out with my hind ones!
Two of my assailants went flying backwards, quite some distance too.
"Naw, she's a bitch!" was the cry to arms of the thugs.
Suddenly, they were all on me, beating me, trying to pull me down. I felt enraged! I've had a crappy day!
I'M MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE ANYMORE!
I started to pull them off of me and throwing them this way and that. This was weird, I mean I was strong before this cancer crap, but not by this much! I was throwing them ten feet or more, like a bunch of eight year olds!
"The bitch got JJ!" Bluecap yelled, "Cap her!"
Holy S--t! Eight year olds with guns! Like any sensible person would do, I ran like hell! I literally ran over a couple more creeps in my escape out of the crowd and down a street. Like a deer, I was briefly lit by the light of a truck that narrowly missed hitting me. I heard the cracks of a gun, and felt a sting or two. I am not sure, for I was running for my life, such as it currently was. Before long, I heard the commotion falling far behind, but lucky me, I saw the Bess Kaiser Hospital not far away to my right.
I knew my options have really dwindled, so with a sigh of resignation and a duck of my head, I walked into the emergency entrance. It wasn't extremely busy (I've been here many times during my cancer), but almost all activity stopped as I came in, only the paramedics and nurses with a patient kept working. Some of the other patients, medicos and otherwise actually backed away from me.
One brave doctor (?) walked forward and asked, "Hello, can I help you?" In such a way that seemed he didn't know if I talked, or knew English.
"Can you talk?" He inquired, "Do you understand?"
"Yes, I can and do." I replied. "I was attacked by some guys, can you help me?"
He moved up to and around me, always keeping a hand on me, and motioned an orderly to come over. He commented that there a couple of bullet wounds on my buttocks and one on my right arm. I looked down, and sure enough, there was blood oozing out of me. Looking along the trail of drips, I saw one of the other wounds he mentioned. My butt was bleeding, quite a bit too. At this time my brain took a quick re-evaluation of the situation:
1) Fell asleep in tub.
2) Woke up in the night, in a park, in the nude.
3) Turned into a centaur.
4) Walked miles home in the dark, alone.
5) Rejected by my mother.
6) Three months have gone by unexpectedly.
7) Attacked by a gang of thugs.
8) Shot by affore-mentioned thugs.
9) Bleeding extensively from aforementioned shots.
Quit, Retry, or Abort?
Quit.
I, blissfully, serenely, took leave of this world and fainted.