Totem Animal

First things first.  


I can't go on with this account of my life until we get one thing straight.  This is something vital to the understanding of me as a person, crucial to the acceptance of my opinions, and generally essential to know before we interact in any way.


My totem animal is the moose.  


Well... that's probably not a legit totem animal, because it seems to me like one should go through some sort of spiritual ritual to discover their totem thing.  However, since I am clearly the self-appointed Master of the Universe, I reserve the right to assign my own totem animal.  And if I want the moose as my totem animal, I'm going to damn well have the moose as my totem animal.


I guess what that really boils down to is my unnecessary obsession with the largest member of the deer family.  I can't recall exactly how I got to the point where my bed has a steadily increasing pile of stuffed moose in one corner, or how I dragged a $35 iron winged moose doorstop home, or how my claim to fame in my traumatic eighth grade year was a stupid doodled moose.


The weird part is, I have this strange distinct memory, rife with fear and panic, from a party a long time ago...  


You see, my parents brought me with them to this get-together with a group of their friends, because they had all met when they had children and bonded over it and never parted since, blah blah blah.  At this time, I must have been about four or five, maybe even three, without a care in the world except who was going to play with me and where my next cookie was coming from.


I was merrily bouncing along around a dining room table laden with amazing bundles of sugar and chocolate, trying to sneak a brownie or cookie away like some deprived little crazed child while an adult wasn't looking.  Suddenly, I paused in my pursuits of sugar long enough to notice a curious open door at the back of the room.  I became mesmerized by the glorious, magical stream of light pouring forth from the mysteriously ajar portal (the memory must be slightly skewed by the sugar high I was on).  Approaching the door, full of wonder and probably tracking mud and dribbles of cookie crumbs on the nice carpet, I peered into what was surely a world full of magic and fairies.


It was actually their basement.  
Surprised by the lack of pixie dust in the air, I looked down the stairs, and instantly locked eyes with a monster. A huge, ferocious, furry brown monster.  It had big, evil eyes and scary looking horns. It was also wearing a blood red scarf.


I looked fearfully back towards the living room, where the adults were chatting and laughing and sipping wine. Surely, someone knows about this monster and will do something about it.  But they were all focused on their chips and salsa, totally oblivious to their impending dooms at the hands of a vicious brown monster.  


I was thinking, "OH MY GOD HOW DO THEY NOT KNOW THERE'S A MONSTER DOWN THERE?!" 


At that moment, things became very simple in my mind:


1.
I could run to my mom and tell her about Monster.  She would think I was just hyperactive from desserts and make me go play with the other girls. 


Result: Monster destroys the universe. Cookies destroyed as well. I lose.


2.
I could tell my dad about Monster.  He would go investigate but find nothing because clearly Monster has adult-senses and can become invisible at will to assist it in universe-destruction.  


Result: My dad laughs and then eats all the cookies because he is really a fat person disguised as a skinny person. Cookies gone. Then universe is destroyed.  I lose.


3.
Or...I could attempt to valiantly tackle the malicious beast myself, focusing all my pent-up sugar energy into a monster-killing hyperbeam.  


Result: If I perish, I will die a hero and everyone will put flowers and cake on my grave to celebrate my awesomeness.  And if I aim my hyperbeam well enough, Monster is vanquished. Universe saved. Cookies saved. 


I WIN.


It was decided.  I would take matters into my own hands.  With remorse and deep resignation, I selected what could possibly be my final, delicious piece of edible heaven.  I took one with extra chocolate chips.  One of the adults eyed me suspiciously so I crawled under the table to hide behind the long tablecloth.


After savoring my cookie and taking a deep breath, I steeled myself for the battle and before I could change my mind, charged down the basement stairs, relying on my surprise tactic to give me the upper hand against Monster.


At the bottom of the creaky stairs, I faced the chilling, dank air and the grim reality of my situation.  Monster was but a mere few feet away from me, staring into my soul with its cold, heartless eyes.  


And there we stood, like two Wild West gunslingers waiting for the perfect moment to attack the opponent.  Monster was using some sort of psychological battle strategy, glaring at me contemptuously, trying to make me flee.  I glared back.  The suspense hung thick on the air.  The tension was tangible. 


I could stand it no longer.  With a terrible battle cry and a final, loving thought for the cookies of the world, I launched myself at Monster.


I knocked it to the ground and it dealt a nasty blow to my head (the result of me colliding with the wall in my attempt to vanquish Monster).  I counterattacked, throwing Monster against the far wall of the basement.  Its scarf unwrapped and Monster fell to the ground, on its side, obviously in its death throes because the scarf was actually its soul contained in a scarf.


I waited. Monster remained still.  I was seized with the desire for more sugar.  Suddenly satisfied that I had killed it, I ran back upstairs and rewarded myself with another cookie.


I win.


Anyway, to make a long story short, I later discovered that this "Monster" was actually a giant, somewhat creepy stuffed moose.  


Thus, I have possibly clarified my long-winded point:  


Since I vanquished Monster and saved the entire universe and all of its cookies, clearly I am the Master of the Universe.  And since I vanquished a moose at the ripe age of five, clearly, I reserve the right to damn well name it as my totem animal if I damn well please.