It’s no secret that I hate birds. Those bitches are mean and disgusting. Just the other week I in my car, reading the last of When You Are Engulfed in Flames, when a flock of mockingbirds swarmed my car. Mostly they just pooped all over it, but one of those fuckers tried to get in through the window I’d left cracked. He kept trying to squeeze his diseased-ridden body through the 1 inch opening, and when he finally realized he wasn’t going to make it in, he hurled himself repeatedly again the window before attacking his reflection in my side-view mirror. I was so shocked by the initial onslaught I spilled my delicious apple cider in my lap. After the birds left, I sat in my car, shaking, and looked around the parking lot to see if anyone else had witnessed my “When Animals Attack” experience. Seriously, I think the kamikaze one had rabies.
Even if I didn’t like to eat poultry I still would do it, just to show those fuckers who’s the boss.