I was fat. I was lonely. I was depressed. I want to get that out in the open. I want to be totally honest so that you'll believe me. Please continue listening, 'cause I swear it’s all true.
It started a few months ago when I was running in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. I was running around the lake. Oh, and by the way, please don’t picture Brad Pitt running with his shirt off.

Think one foot shorter, about five shades darker and about forty pounds heavier -- mostly in the midsection.

I was running with my Irish setter, Cindy, at about four in the morning. I went that early so that other people wouldn’t see my belly jiggling or see me stopping every five seconds to catch my breath. Also, my dog got to run free and wild. She liked to chase after all the critters she saw, which sort of led to the trouble.

For about a month I could barely make it halfway around that damn lake, but one breezy, spring morning, I finally managed to break the midway barrier. I had heard that about three quarters of the way around the lake there’s this spot that ducks and geese like to chill. Well, Cindy, she’s always hated birds. I used to think there was something wrong with her. I mean, I know Irish setters are natural hunting dogs, but Cindy would go after these birds with a vengeance. Little did I know…

I stopped right before this bend ‘cause I was out of breath. My mp3 player kept cutting in and out I thought it was 'cause of the batteries, so I shut it off. It was eerily quiet. Cindy was sniffing around behind me, but I thought I should have heard a duck quack or a goose do whatever it is that they do. And then I heard it: a clicking noise, followed by whispering. The sounds originated from an inlet, but tall grasses and trees blocked my vision.

Now, I’ve lived in New York for about ten years and I’ve learned one thing: If you’re alone and you think someone may be up to something, just start acting crazy. So I started flailing my arms over my head and then I ran out in the open, getting ready to scream up a storm. But what I saw . . . What they did . . . Excuse me, I need a sec.

•

A go-goose, larger than any goose I had ever seen -- with shiny silver feathers -- had its bill buried in its right wing, and I don't think it was preening itself.
"Hey, you talkin' to yourself again?"
I'm telling my story, so they, someone, will believe me!
"Ha! C'mon dawg, it's dinner time!"

•

Where was I? Yes. The silver goose. It was surrounded by four other slightly smaller geese, each with their wings spread, as if they were trying to hide whatever the silver goose was doing. Two rows of ducks, about twelve each, floated in front of the geese, as if they were guarding them, like two rows of pawns on a chessboard.

When they saw me, I swear to you, they gave me a look of contempt and anger. Their eyes narrowed and their feathers stood on end, like a porcupine's. Well, by that time, Cindy had come into the scene and she dove into the lake barking and swimming after them.

Now, I love my dog, but have you ever seen the color of the water in that lake? It looks like that girl from The Exorcist filled that lake, if you get my drift. While I was rolling up the bottom of my sweatpants, I yelled, ‘Cindy, Cindy, get your butt out of there!’ But she wasn’t listening to me. And to my horror, the duck soldiers were actually going after her. All I heard was, “Quack, Quack, Quack,” followed by barking and growling. I ran into the lake, dismissing the rotten egg smell and the feel of slime against my bare legs, and dove for Cindy.

Well, I don’t know where they came from, but seagulls began pecking at me from above while some of the ducks broke off from chasing Cindy and swam after me. I managed to put an arm around Cindy, who was whining at this point ‘cause the ducks were trying to bite her. I pulled her to land. The ducks and seagulls motioned to follow, but the goose flapped its wings in a rhythmic pattern, almost like Morse code, and the seagulls just circled above us while the ducks slowly receded.

I didn’t even want to think how bad we smelled. We ran all the way home, let me tell you. When you’re one of the only black people in the neighborhood, and it’s four o’clock in the morning, and you’re running with a dog with a crazed look in her eyes, and you’re both soaking wet, and you're smelling like a carton of rotten eggs, you can run a damn marathon.

By the time I got to my apartment I was shivering. I could barely get my key in the door. Cindy, of course, shook herself right in the middle of the living room, so I went to the window to let some air in, ‘cause it was stinkin’, and I jumped back at the sight.
"Bro, we're trying to sleep. Keep it down!"
I was just getting to the creepiest part! You guys are ruining --

•

At least twenty pigeons lined my terrace parapet. They didn’t make a sound, they just looked at me. The one in the middle floated in the air and it seemed he was trying to point at something. Cindy jumped at the window but the birds stood their ground. I cautiously approached the window.
On the terrace tile, written in pigeon feces, were the words, “Tell Anyone and You Die!” I swear; there even was an exclamation point! Well, at that moment, I could have answered their message in kind with what came out in my pants. The first bird to the left flew away followed by the one next to it. Each bird retreated the same way. It looked like a pigeon conga line had originated from my terrace.

I don't mean to be funny. It's how I always have been. It's what got me through it all and it's what gets me through my days in here.
The bird that was hovering before the window opened its mouth and I swear to you, it spit on my window. Cindy whined and ran to the bedroom.

The bird then turned in mid-air and flew away. I looked around and saw that no one else was out on his terrace. Of course not, it was just after five in the morning.

This was not happening, I thought to myself as I ran to the bathroom to clean myself up. I cleaned Cindy’s superficial cuts and bathed her.

I found myself sitting on the couch, thinking on the events of the day. I decided I needed to tell someone about this. But, at the time, I didn’t really have a lot of friends (any, actually), and who would believe me anyway?

I knew I needed evidence. I dug through my closet and found my hand held video camera. Now all I needed was some bait.
I found her cowering under my bed. I coaxed Cindy out with a Snausage and petted her soothingly. Listen, I didn’t want to trick her, but I had to represent! I was attacked by some damn birds, for Christ’s sake. I could understand if I were messing with their eggs or teasing them, but they had no right, no matter what they were up to. And believe you me, they were up to something.
It was Hell getting Cindy outside the next morning, but when nature calls, you pick up the phone. When we reached the overpass that leads to the lake, Cindy barked, whined, and ran in the opposite direction. I had to chase her, lift her up, and walk her all the way back. Do you know how much a full-grown Irish setter weighs? It wasn’t fun.

Luckily, I had a whole bunch of Snausages with me so once we got to the lake I began playing ball with her and rewarding her with her favorite treat. I think she forgot about the incident yesterday, at least for the moment.

Cindy and I began walking toward the inlet. I was hoping this would work. I looked at Cindy and apologized in advance. I threw the ball over the inlet and Cindy went after it. I turned on the camera, jumped out in the open, and clicked on the light.

I saw the goose, the ringleader, speaking into a small black box embedded in its wing. It was speaking a language I’ve never heard before. It was almost like that African Bushmen clicking language but with a lot of rolling consonants combined with low and high pitches. The ducks were in a circle around the goose and other geese were between the goose “leader” and the ducks.

There was a greenish metallic substance glowing underneath them, and I could swear they were actually hovering over it, above the water. Once I shone the light on them, they all turned my way and, I guess I must have caught them by surprise because the metallic substance rose higher. It definitely looked like the hull of some vessel and the birds began jumping up and down on it, like they were trying to tell whoever was controlling it to go back down. The silver goose in the middle began clicking louder and the vessel stopped glowing and sunk below the surface. It took me a second to realize they were all staring at me, their wings flapping like crazy. I looked toward Cindy: she was already halfway to the overpass by now.

I took a lesson from her and booked it. I didn’t need to look behind to know they were after me 'cause I heard the flapping and quacking as if it were inside my head. The camera felt awkward and clumsy in my hands as I ran with it. I tried to get a better grip on it and must have missed the pebbles ahead. I tripped and fell forward; the camera went flying ahead of me and before I smashed my face in the ground I saw two geese snatch the camera strap in mid-air with each their bill's.

I didn’t even get a chance to black out, ‘cause by then the birds were on me. Two ducks had used my big ass for a landing pad and they pecked at my lower back. Two other ducks pecked at my head. I tried to slide forward but two heavy things plopped on my legs and upper back: the geese.
As soon as they landed on my back, I felt a sharp, piercing pain in each region they touched. I tried to scream; I tried to move; I tried to wet myself, but I was paralyzed. I could feel, but couldn’t move.
Now, here is where it got really weird.
"What's weird is you keep expecting someone to believe your man!"
Someone will believe me. Someone will come. I have to believe that.
"Listen, just chill with this nonsense bro. Do you want them to take you away?"
Something is going on. People need to know.

•

Sorry. There's four to a room here. We're all friends, besides, I had no choice in the matter. Anyway . . .

I felt one of the geese walk up my spine, onto my head and plop down right in front of me. I thought it was going to do something nasty as it was faced away from me, but it turned around and looked me in the eye. I haven’t even seen a human give me a look the way this goose did. Then, it spoke -- no, not with its mouth, but with its mind. I heard it inside my head.
“My colleagues think I should kill you.” If I could have moved, I would have trembled. The voice in my head was like a cross between James Earl Jones and Vincent Price.
“But, we’re not here for that,” the goose continued.
I couldn't believe this could be happening.
“Know this, Michael. There is nothing that you can do. There is nothing that you can say. No one will believe you. Do you understand me?”
Was I supposed to say something? How the heck was I supposed to know how this worked?

As I was contemplating what I should do, I began to feel pins and needles in my head, like life was coming back to it. I did the safe thing: I teared up and nodded furiously. The goose nodded and pointed the tip of its wing feathers to its head and bowed. Then, it opened its wing. The black box was making noises again. The goose looked annoyed and I heard that clicking language again as it spoke into the black box.

The goose looked at me. I couldn’t tell, but I could swear it had a look of sadness in its eyes. I heard the voice again in my head, “I’m sorry to have to do this, but orders are orders.”
The last thing I ever saw were two sets of duck beaks approaching my eyes.

I don’t know how long I was out, but I awoke to excruciating pain in my head. I heard human screams and there was a wetness pushing against my face. Cindy, she came back for me.

So, again, I hope this makes it to the right place. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know what they are. Nor do I know what they want. Are they all like this? I don’t know. I’m hoping you take me seriously, though. And don’t feel too bad for me. They're trying to train Cindy so that she can be my guide dog. I’ve made more friends here than I ever had in my life. I even have a girlfriend now, but I attribute that to all the weight I’ve lost. They have me seeing the cuckoo doctor every day, but I know what I saw and I was punished for it.

If you don’t believe me, go to the park. But be careful, they’re sneaky little buggers.
"Thank God, Mike. You're finally done. Can we all get some sleep.
Yeah, Yeah.
"Hey, Mike. Who ya sendin' this one off to? The Prez?"
No, just the local cops this time. Crap, I forgot to pre --

•

Detective Mark Hampton pressed his stubby finger on the stop button of the micro-cassette player. He wheezed and dunked another KFC popcorn chicken piece in barbecue sauce.
“Hampton,” Detective Jenkins said, “I couldn’t help overhearing. Who the heck is this loon?”
“I dunno, there’s no return address,” Hampton said between bites of KFC. “I’m too tired to even bother with this today.” He quaffed the remnants of his watery Diet Coke.
Jenkins grimaced. “Hampton. If you want, I’ll take it.”
Hampton licked his fingers clean and tossed the micro-cassette recorder to Detective Jenkins. Hampton wiped the fried chicken crumbs from his coat and said, “I won’t forget this Jenkins. The next round’s on me.”

Jenkins smiled and placed the micro-cassette recorder next to the little black box in his jacket pocket.

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