Fear: noun; A distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain etc. The feeling or condition of being afraid.
Everyone has something that scares the pants off them.
Here are just a few examples.
Everyone I know, EVERYONE, gets so flipping excited when the music from an ice cream truck is heard through an open window on a summer's day. All my friends get excited and start looking for loose change, while I feign a stomach ache, run to the bathroom, escape through the window and run like hell with my hands over my ears.
I cannot remember a time when I was not afraid of ice cream trucks.
When I was a small child, the truck used to drive by, and as soon as I started hearing that wretched music, I would begin to cry.
I remember one particular occasion when I was in the park with my Grandma and the music made its way into my tiny ears. I curled up into a ball and started howling. Poor Granny was confused and tried to convince me that "the ice cream man is a very nice man" but nothing would console me until that music finally disappeared into the distance.
You see, when I see an ice cream truck, I do not see the happy, treat-delivering vessel of joy and glory that most others seem to see.
As soon as I hear that thin, tinny tune that is always played slightly flat, I see this:
And so I have never had the apparently "joyous" experience of skipping over to an ice cream truck and buying a little happy treat to cheer up my summer's day.
Instead, I go foetal until the siren of doom is no longer within earshot.
Most people think I'm crazy.
But I think it's instinct.
I'm saving myself.
The end.
Everyone has something that scares the pants off them.
Here are just a few examples.
I have one such fear. But it's not one of the ones above. I even typed it into Google just now and nothing came up. So I guess I'm alone in this fear. This one thing that makes my blood curdle and my hairs stand on end and my tummy flip and my curls frizz.
...................
Ice cream trucks.
I cannot remember a time when I was not afraid of ice cream trucks.
When I was a small child, the truck used to drive by, and as soon as I started hearing that wretched music, I would begin to cry.
I remember one particular occasion when I was in the park with my Grandma and the music made its way into my tiny ears. I curled up into a ball and started howling. Poor Granny was confused and tried to convince me that "the ice cream man is a very nice man" but nothing would console me until that music finally disappeared into the distance.
You see, when I see an ice cream truck, I do not see the happy, treat-delivering vessel of joy and glory that most others seem to see.
As soon as I hear that thin, tinny tune that is always played slightly flat, I see this:
And so I have never had the apparently "joyous" experience of skipping over to an ice cream truck and buying a little happy treat to cheer up my summer's day.
Instead, I go foetal until the siren of doom is no longer within earshot.
Most people think I'm crazy.
But I think it's instinct.
I'm saving myself.
The end.
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