I would like to offer some possible places, other than my brand new, shiny black mailbox, for you to park your feathered ass. As a rule, I would not be so bold as to offer opinions as to where you rest. I didn’t squawk when your winged companion built a nest in my watering can. Not a peep escaped my lips when one of your dimmer buddies flew into my window, scaring the bejeezus out of me. But I waited two years for Home Depot to start carrying the over-sized mailbox that now graces the foot of my driveway. I lovingly screwed it to the post myself, and have the blister at the base of my thumb to prove it. I went to bed that evening, content in the knowledge that I had increased my home’s curb appeal, and that the proverbial ball was in the proverbial Jones’ court.
I awoke the next day, to find fucking white BIRD SHIT dripping down the side of it.
I gave you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you had an accident. Maybe june bugs inflame your irritable bowl syndrome. I forgave you. I pulled out the Windex and grabbed the paper towels.
Two days later, stepping out to get my morning paper there it was again.
Maybe you think you’re funny. A joker. Maybe when you and your avian buddies get together around the bird bath and someone says, “Boy, I could use a worm right now!” you’re the guy who says, “That’s what she said!” I bet you regurgitate that derivative humor like a momma bird barfing worms for her chicks.
But I digress. In the interest of keeping the peace in the neighborhood, I thought I might make a few suggestions to help us move past these childish incidences.
- The next time you’re thinking of defecating on my mailbox, may I suggest, instead, you poop in a tree. The idea may seem barbaric, but — not to seem indelicate — you are a fucking bird.
- The house on the next block has a mailbox in the shape of a little barn. Down the street is one boasting what looks like a scene from Bambi painted by a particularly talentless 4 year-old. I’m sure you agree they are both hideous. Shit on them. I only wish I could join you.
- Migrate. I’m sure it is lovely a few states farther South this time of year. I’ll even make you up a little knapsack of seeds to take with you.
I’ve seen your macho swagger. Right now, you don’t give a hoot. You think you’re untouchable because you’re strikingly handsome and blue, but really, you’re just a bully. I’ve seen you harassing the other birds in the yard. Well, I’m no sparrow, buddy. I recommend you take my suggestions, post haste, or there will be consequences.
I’ll get a cat.