Monday, June 11, 2012

BIRD ATTACK: MAN V. NATURE

Look at this smug little bro with his upturned nose. Thinks he's the Twitter bird and shit.

There's a weird sort of sound optical illusion -- wait, soundular illusion? Aural illusion probably -- going on in my apartment lately whereby it's hard to pinpoint where things going on outside of the house, a team of wiener kids shouting their dumb kid words all hours into the night last night, for example, are actually coming from. So when I heard all the bird noises all over the place this morning, I figured it was just another case of that. Birds outside, echoes, science etc. Then something jumped on my head. It was this little nerd above. "What the fuck!?" I said (squealed), literally, which is an embarrassing thing to say out loud if you haven't tried it in a while. BIRD ATTACK. It was like something out of that Hitchcock movie, "Pyscho", because I had my skeleton mother's bathrobe on at the time but that's a whole other thing. 




I chased the little fucker behind the tv on some cartoon mouse hunt routine. I went one way around, he scooted over the other way. Doot doot doot, he dooted. Eventually I chased him into the bedroom, where he hid for a while under the bed. Because of all the random shit we keep under there he had all sorts of nooks and crannies to hide in. After a while, I gave up. I've been bested, I thought. Fair fight. I figured I'd deal with this the same way I did with the shard of glass I lodged in my foot when I woke up this morning  -- wait for someone else to deal with it. I went back to the internet and did what you do when something weird happens in your house: posted a photo on Facebook.  There was a plumber here earlier in the day, I really wished he would've come back right about then. Sorry, forgot my wrench and other plumber tool things, he'd say. Anything else I can do for you while I'm here?

He didn't come back. 

Maybe the bird was sent here to pull the glass out of my foot I started thinking, like the lion and the mouse fable? Or maybe this whole thing is a symbol? Please don't be a symbol.  Maybe I'm still fucked out of my mind like I was last night at Prometheus when I had to leave 30 minutes into the movie because I was tripping my ass off behind some weed overdose like a ten year old baby?  But then I remembered something scarier than broken glass and bird metaphors and getting your dome lifted off at the alien pictures: Michelle coming home and being disappointed in me. 

Fuck it, time to man up. I found homeboy quivering in fear inside the closet behind some boots. Girls have too many shoes, right fellas? Way too many places for birds to hide, you might say to her next time you fight about closet space.


Eventually I tricked him into a plastic bag and got him outside. I AM THE TEDDY ROOSEVELT/HEMINGWAY OF THE HOUSE, I thought. I STOOD MY GROUND VIA THIS HOME INVADER. Those bros were probably less gentle than I, come to think of it. I wouldn't call what I did so much hunting as awkward prat fall nestling. He didn't do much flying away once we went out front, which was kind of a sign of something or other I'd say. Maybe he'd come to love me after all? Maybe it was meant to be? One thing I'm sure it meant is that that dude is dead as shit right now, because of cat. Sorry buddy :( Miss you already sometimes. It's probably for the best though, right?



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5 comments:

said...

remember the great bat hunt in ye olde evergreen square? that was a total thing.

luke said...

I REMEMBER THAT BASTARD. BATSTARD YOU MIGHT SAY.

said...

never a more unlikely twosome of bat fighters than us. you w/ your pants off, johnson in the wind. me in my underwear. wielding brooms and couch cushions in what was most likely the gayest reproduction of quidditch ever!

Anonymous said...

That is how you stand your ground! Black kids, teachers, and now birds. Way to go, Luke. You left out the part when he came out from under your bed with that missing eight ball. 4 hours, 36 beers, and a shit ton of backgammon games later the little guy was like I gotta bounce, bro. Good talk and fuck that plumber. Swing by the nest. All the while grinding his beak and chaining menthols.

If the old lady doesn't drop panties after reading about your epic home defense then something is very wrong.

said...

ha ha you're right, i need to take control of the narrative before this thing goes to trial. uh, the bird was listening to hip hop and had a hoodie on.


lol @ backgammon.

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