It happened to me

By Kiley Walsh
Opinion Editor
Ask me to take out the garbage? Sure, I’m annoyed, but I’ll get over it.
Ask me to take it out at 11:30 pm? When the sun has gown down alerting all pedophiles and murders to come out and try to snatch me? Sorry I’m not sorry, but no.
It’s always been my worst nightmare to ever encounter a situation like this, but – it happened to me– sorta.
One night my house was so cold I put on my boots to keep my feet warm — but only to keep my feet warm.  Yet, my mom saw this as the perfect opportunity to hand me the trash bag and send me out into an abyss of spooky noises, rabid squirrels and dirty leaves.  
How could you ever send your loving youngest child out into the wild like that? Puzzles me, but it happened.So there I stood, dramatically peering out my smudged glass door, embracing life as it was.  Who knew if I would make it back? 
I turned to the side of my house to locate where the cans were hiding, but I might as well have bat vision and this time of the night.
Carefully cherishing what could be my last moments, I approached and opened the cans.
Now listen, if I wasn’t going to die from being killed, the stench from six days worth of garbage could have knocked me out just as well.
At this point, I chucked the garbage in the can as fast, only to feel someone else’s presence. 
My heart stopped. The buzzer in my head that alerts me when something is wrong was louder than ever. It was like the Bulls had just won the NBA World Championship on a half-court shot by D-rose, and that buzzer was not letting up any time soon.
Thoughts ran in and out of my head. “Why me?” I thought. “No, no. This can’t be real. No, it can’t be.”Even my knees had a pulse, causing my body to freeze.  And honestly, now I understand why horribly cheesy actors can’t run from Mike Meyers when he’s literally inches from their face.
So when I heard the words, “Ki, you forgot the recycling…” it not only bombed my brain waves with concert like stereos playing in a tiny car, but my whole body went shaky, dizzy, and had nothing logical to say.
So as Allison, my sister, stood with her weapon of recyclables in hand, I laughed and laughed and laughed.  Because if I didn’t laugh, I would have pooped my pants.
Safely, and very quickly, we then walked inside to the warmth of my home, the place I always want to be when the “stranger danger” buzzer goes off.
But now every single time I’m outside at night, regardless that I was so close I was touching the brick of my own house, I always think I’m going to be attacked. I don’t know by what, I don’t know by who but I know that one day it’ll happen – and let me tell you, 9-iron in hand, I’ll be ready.