The Day of the Zombie Bambi

For kids, the 1950s were a simpler, but occasionally horrifying time. We walked to school (uphill, both ways!) and crossed busy streets under the sole supervision of 6th graders serving as crossing guards. What motorist wouldn't be intimidated by a 12 year old in a reflective (safety was paramount) white belt and shoulder strap with a hand-held stop sign?

The whole street crossing thing didn't scare me (even as a 1st grader when those mean 5th graders thought it great sport to jostle the littler kids onto busy Pittston Avenue while waiting for the light to change). I was however traumatized by The Day of the Zombie Bambi.

We 5th graders were divided into groups of ten, assigned an adult chaperon, handed bus tokens and directed to to go the Scranton School Administration building in Center City for fluoride treatment. In return for sitting in a dentist's chair and having our teeth swabbed, we got a bus ride and half a day off from school. It was better than Christmas morning.

Our route from the bus stop to the Admin Building took us past the YMCA. In those days, there weren't Holiday Inns at every highway interchange. In fact, the most economical lodging for single guys was the local YMCA. The Village People's immortal song has a historical basis. The week after Thanksgiving, then as now, was deer season in Pennsylvania and the Scranton YMCA was packed with hunters who ventured into the nearby Poconos by day and sampled the temptations of the city by night. The YMCA had no parking so the downtown streets were lined with out-of-state cars. Some of those cars had a dead deer tied to their fenders.

Every group of 5th graders has a clown. Ours was Bobby Greco. Bobby decided to scare the girls in our group by grasping Bambi's head and making scary noises. Bambi responded by gurgling and vomiting on Bobby's pants. The entire group screamed. Frankly, Bobby's pants weren't the only ones accidentally stained at that moment.

Our chaperon calmed us down and pointed out that "those clowns from Jersey didn't field dress that deer" and proved that it was very dead by pummelling it with no effect. "There was still air in its lungs and some juice in its stomach. Don't worry, kids."

The remainder of the trip was uneventful, but, to this day, I swear that Bambi smiled a vengeful smile after vomiting on Bobby's pants.