Don’t Give Me The Bird

I’m not just now beginning to believe the birds are conspiring in some manner against humans. Now I’m not sure of their intentions, but my best estimates are that they’re either planning to take over the world by killing all humans, or plotting some massive attack in order to acquire more birdseed. Either of those scenarios is as realistic as the other. So it’s hard to tell. But for a long time, I’ve thought birds had some sinister plan. Remember, I mentioned it in my column about how people are becoming more like birds.

So what spurred this train of thought, you say? Well, hear this, friends. Grab a cup of coffee, maybe a napkin with a couple of strips of cold bacon on it, and a chair. Then pull up close to your monitor, put your elbows on the desk and prepare to read possibly the greatest tale ever of how a bird tried to assassinate and possibly take over the life of a human being. It’s about to get scary in here.

Okay, so I went to the market the other day to pick up some newt livers and pancho salsa, and had to park about seventeen miles from the entrance. It would have actually been more of an efficient use of my time to have just walked to the market in the first place. My house is probably closer to the front entrance than is the parking place in which I had to park. Irregardless, I was there, and I had my newt livers, so I came out the exit door (not the entrance) and began my long trek back to my automobile.

Side Note: Okay so this is a little bit of a tangent, but it fits here, and I believe it’s worthy of mentioning. There’s almost nothing I hate more than when I’m walking up to the entrance of a store (I cannot see through the tinted glass on the doors) and they slide open, and I almost run into whoever is coming out of the entrance. I have to slam on my brakes and almost get nailed by a basket. And they almost always just keep walking.

:angry:

That makes me fill with a rage so thick and complete I could potentially rip their heads off and shit down their necks. On this particular occasion (the one where I had just picked up the newt livers) this happened. When the doors opened I almost ran into a hambeast of a woman who was waddling out, talking on her cell phone. And she was so much more important than everyone else that she didn’t even slow her roll. (See what I did there?) So I stopped and spread my arms out and said, “What the hell, woman? Didn’t mean to get in your way. I mean, after all, this is the ENTRANCE!” Then I walked away shaking my head. Everyone at all the checkout lanes that were visible from there turned and applauded before quietly returning to what they were doing. People who go out entrances and go in exits make me murderous with rage.

I trekked the many miles back to my car and noted that there seemed to be many birds hopping around in the grass in front of my car, and on the parking lot all around it. There were several birds on top of my car as well. It was almost as if someone had poured a cup of freedom fries on my hood. As I approached, I noticed an entire cup of freedom fries on my hood, and up in my windshield wiper well. Hey, thanks, friends!

The birds were hopping around, eating fries, and partying like it was 1889. It was ridiculous how many there were. Well, I opened my driver door and popped my hatchback so I could put in the few groceries I had. I then walked back there, put the groceries in the back, and shut the hatchback. The rush of air through the car moved the driver’s door. I hadn’t closed it, and had thrown my keys in the seat while I loaded up. I then went and returned the cart, and yes, you can see where this is going. The crazy go nuts thing about this though, is that I was almost out of the market parking lot by the time the first bird hopped up on my seat.

I only saw it peripherally, of course. I mean, why would I ever look over into my passenger seat when I’m alone? But see it I did, out of the corner of mine eye. (See, it’s using fancy words like ‘mine’ that will boost this column into Pulitzer territory.) I looked over at the damn bird and shook my head. “What the hell are you doing in here?” You know, I fully expected him to ask me at any moment, “Say, Mack, you gotta smoke?” Alas, he didn’t.

As I’m driving along, contemplating how I’m going to get these damn birds out of my car without having them drop bird schlit all over my seat, another one flies up, crashes into my windshield, then starts fluttering all around my face, chirping and pecking like a damn – well, shoot, I can’t think of an analogy. There goes my Pulitzer. Anyway, it really was. It was like the damn bird was angry at having been trapped in my car, so he was literally pecking me in the face, fluttering around and chirping loudly. Like I’d stolen her eggs or something.

So I’m swatting at it, trying to get the damn bird to knock it the hell off, at the same time trying to shift gears, make my right turn and roll down the window. Fortunately, I was able to swat her away enough to pull up into the line waiting at the stop light. I put the car in neutral and yanked up on my e-brake, then opened my door and got out. I figured once I was out, the birds would fly out and everything would return to normal.

Nope.

The damn bird kept fluttering and chirping around my face as I stood outside the car, swatting and dodging like a professional boxer. Zing! Nice recovery there, Space! I’m sure I was putting on quite a good show for all the cars around me. I finally got pissed, reached up and grabbed the damn bird, then I pulled the Andy Samberg on that bitch. I Threw It On The Ground.

The bird flapped around for a minute on its back – much like a june bug – before finally righting itself. But I was already back in the car, putting it in gear and driving off. The other bird was still sitting on the back of the passenger seat, just staring at me. I looked him hard in the eyes, with the intention of sending the message, “See what happens when you eff a stranger?” He kind of just tilted his bird head and looked back out the windshield. It was clear what his reply had been. “Good job, Space. Couldn’t stand that bitch anyway.”

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7 Responses

  1. Haycomet says:

    “Pecking like a high woodpecker on a tree made out of cheese curls.”?

  2. SahSah says:

    birds are creepy and I HATE people exiting through the entrance – seriously?

  3. scott says:

    haha – hilarious!

  4. Catina says:

    Irregardless?? Really??

  5. steppy says:

    Wow, talk about freaky! oh and the exit entrance, yeah I want to knock them bitches out. clearly they can’t read!

  6. Space says:

    Catina spouted this rhetoric:
    Irregardless?? Really??

    You like that? Hell yes!

    :cool:

  7. Becky Riles says:

    You are so funny Space. I’ve never heard of a talking bird before! :P

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