Thursday, June 3, 2010
Attack of the Shit Blasting, Angry Robin.
Now, Robins are these pretty, cute, hopping, little birds that collect on your lawn in the early morning and evening and slurp up worms like a kid does spaghetti. So how is it, yesterday, I was thinking of how I could get my hands on a B.B. gun so I might take one of these fuckers out?
"Did he just refer to robins as fuckers??"
Well, yes. I was also asking this same question of myself when I called them fuckers yesterday. Ok, fuck-er. There was only one. And that bird is whack. But where to start?
How about nearly a week ago when I was sitting downstairs trying to set up my guitar and a microphone. I'm working on recording audio without strange feedback from my Peavy and something's banging into one of the screened windows. "Well hello there, bird." :) There's this robin latching onto the screen and looking in. I'm thinking, "Well this is cute." No really, I'm no bird hater. Just the opposite. I communicate with some of them (esp. Mourning Doves). So I think I've got a sweet chirping, orange boobed visitor. Except this one flaps off and kind of slams into the screen. Flaps off. And he's back again, claws into the screen and a bunch of flapping.
I'm beginning to think this is someone I pissed off in my past, who died, and was reincarnated as one seriously vengeful Robin. I'm glad they don't have opposable thumbs. This bird carries on like this for a long time. The whole time I'm playing and singing in the room downstairs. Hey, maybe I'm annoying it. Maybe Roger Waters or Andrew Bird or the Eels just isn't his bag.
I do give up my venture in recording anything ok sounding and go upstairs. I tell my wife about this crazy nutjob bird and she says, "Yeah! He's been all over the deck window. Shitting all over the deck, chairs, and window. Look at the window!"
That little shitting bird just made my... well... shit list. That's a very short list. Currently it comprises of one angry, shitting Robin. I know this word is suddenly in no short supply, but holy shit, this shitting bird has shat an entire 6-8 foot strip along one part of the deck rail. He dropped bombs on the deck chair at the end of the table. It LOOKS like he took a massive dumper on himself, and slammed repeatedly against the deck slider door. Feathers and claw scratchings all painted in white Robin shit, blasted on our glass door.
You little Robin cock sucker. Why did I get rid of my B.B. gun when I was younger? Yeah, it did rust all to hell. OK, but why didn't I buy another one?
We'll I've done nothing to date, but washed off the loads of turd that have been scattered and smeared across our deck and house. What a funny way to fight though (or show you're upset). I'm sitting in the office, thinking of having a disagreement with a manager or co-worker and using the "Robin Method". Flap frantically around them and shit on the floor. Or close the office door, make sure I have splappers the day I plan this attack, lay on my back, aim my bowl filler at the office ceiling, and let it rip. A fountain of liquid crap later and I'm locked and loaded. Head off to the peep I have a disagreement and pull off the flapping maneuver. They are buffeted by my shit smeared arms and chest. I'll drop more splaps or logs while this goes on too, for good measure. Yeah. The Robin Method.
Anyone have a B.B./Pellet gun they'd care to lend me?
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