I’m not sure what it is about me that causes birds to want to die. Maybe my body produces some weird chemical that drives them insane. Don’t get me wrong. I hate birds. I think they are annoying, loud, pooping, pests. I have no problem with them committing suicide around me. Go to town, birds! BUT, I couldn’t kill one on purpose. The first time I noticed my weird influence over birds was in high school. I was cruising around in my little Plymouth Laser with my boyfriend. We had the windows down, & it was a beautiful day outside. We stopped at a light and waited for the signal to change. As I put my foot on the gas and started rolling, I noticed a little bird fly down and land in the path of my right tire. I slowed down, waiting for him to fly back up and away, but he didn’t. I stopped in the middle of the busy street.
“What are you doing?” says boyfriend.
“I don’t want to run over the bird.” says me.
“There’s no way that bird is still there. Just go!”
“Are you sure?” I hesitated.
“Yeah, just go.”
Slowly I began to pull forward, and immediately was rewarded with a slimy sounding, “CRRRRUUUUNNNCCHH!”
The dadgum thing was waiting for me to squish him. I just know it! He must have just gotten dumped by his bird-girlfriend, or fired from his bird-job, or caught his bird-wife in the nest with a raven.
Whatever. It was sickening, but I did everything I could to talk him down from the ledge. I mean, I stopped on Western Avenue during lunch hour, for goodness sake. One less bird to annoy me. I’m the Kevorkian of the avian world.
Which is why I wasn’t one bit surprised this past weekend to hear Ping say, “I think that bird just flew right into our path!” I was thinking about something else, so I didn’t say anything. When we got home, Ping said, “Oh no! Look at your grill.” He probably expected repulsion, tears, or at least something besides….
“GOTCHA SUCKER!”
LOL!! AHAHAHAHHAHA!!!