I've been wondering...is there a normal way to become paranormal? Like, go to Google, type in "make me magic," click on a Website and wait for a list of rules to pop up? I really need a list of rules. How else can an almost fifteen-year-old girl living in Peacock Flats, Washington learn to deal with special powers? And, speaking of normal, what if "normal" is the only thing I really want? It's not like my life isn't weird enough already. Did I ask to be given telekinetic powers like that chick in Carrie? No way!
Here's how it happened. One minute, I'm on a ten foot ladder adjusting the TV antenna on the twenty-four foot trailer behind Uncle Sid's house where I live with my mother, Faye. The next minute, I sail off the ladder, graze an electric fence and land face-down in a cow pie. Swear to God.
Though groggy and hurting, I rolled onto my back. A window in the trailer cranked open and I heard my mother scream. "Alf! Ohmigod! Somebody call 911!"
I remember feeling surprised that Faye managed to open the window. She'd spent most of the last two years in bed since, at age thirty-one, she Retired from Life. But really, call 911? We had no phone and I was the only other person in the area. Who was she talking to? Blaster the bull? I smiled weakly at the thought of Blaster in a phone booth, punching in 911 with one gigantic hoof.
Okay, technically, I landed in a bull pie, not a cow pie. The mess dripping off my face was compliments of my Uncle Sid's prize bull, speaking of which...
It was then my wits returned. I felt the ground vibrate, heard the rumble of hooves. I reared up to see a half-ton cranky bull racing toward me, head down, mean little eyes fixed on my prone body.
Faye continued to scream shrilly. I moaned and crawled toward the fence, looking over my shoulder at Blaster who bore down on me like a runaway train. When I tried to stand, I slipped in the wet grass and landed on my belly. Oh God, he was just inches away. I wasn't going to make it! I rolled into a ball and screamed, "No, Blaster! Go back! Go back!"
Laying on the wet grass, trembling with terror, I watched as Blaster stopped on a dime, blew snot out of his flaring, black nostrils and released a thunderous blast of flatulence-that's what my teacher, Mrs. Burke, calls farting-and, of course, the reason Uncle Sid named him Blaster.
"Back off, Blaster," I said between shallow, panicky breaths. "Good boy."
I hoped the "boy" comment wouldn't tick him off, what with his fully-developed manly-bull parts dangling in full view as I lay curled on the ground looking up, if you get my drift. Yuck!
Suddenly my vision narrowed and grew dark around the edges. It was like looking down a long tunnel with Blaster front and center, bathed in light. A loud buzzing filled my head. I remember thinking, Jeez, I hope I'm not sitting in a yellow jacket nest. The next moment, Blaster took a tentative step backward, then another, walking slowly, at first, then gradually picking up speed until he was trotting briskly backwards like a video tape on slow rewind.
Mesmerized by the sight, I sat up and watched Blaster's bizarre retreat back through the tunnel. I should have known right then something strange was going on. But hey, I was a little busy trying to save my life.
