I didn’t sleep very well last night. And it wasn’t for any wildly amorous reason. Not mine at least. See, the pigeons who have set up home right outside my bedroom window insisted on getting wet and squelchy all night, much to the chagrin of my frayed and frazzled nerves. The flying rats spent the night (and a better part of the morning) copulating in a wild frenzy, all the while moaning like happy-ass retards. Imagine my pain. I finally stumbled out of bed at around seven with a blood-lust. (And dark circles that made me closely resemble a diet-conscious panda) The pigeons instead of sleeping (do they ever sleep, the hellspawn??), had proceeded to poop all over my bedroom window. Good morning dude.
Man, I hate pigeons.
Sometimes I feel they exist merely to mock us. I mean, sure, there was a time when pigeons served a very real purpose. They were symbols of peace (only the doves, mind you. Not the ghaati grey ones that breedpoopflutter all over our window sills) and they were occasionally quite useful if you wanted to send a ‘thank you’ note to Aunt Edith in Warsaw without having to worry about the ineptitude of the Indian postal service.
Of course all of that is redundant now. We have email. And seriously, what bloody peace? Nations are at war, an arms race is upon us and no one can swallow their massive egoes long enough to solve the world’s problems. Birds won’t solve a thing? Especially not one as dumb and horny as a pigeon…dove, whatever. If it had its way it would flutter-fuck the UN General Secretary at a Peace Summit and poop on the heads of every major world leader. And trust me, it would do that with a smile on its face. The bird is not just stupid, it’s evil too.
Man, I hate pigeons.
I know that tonight will be the same; the pigeon couple will bring in a third pigeon and have a threesome. Or perhaps a new couple will join them and they’ll indulge in a little pigeon wife-swapping. Or they’ll bring along a camera and shoot a pigeon porno.
I am at the end of my keel. I am a sleep-deprived wreck. The sound of pigeons orgasming grates on my ears, their dull moaning playing a conga beat on my eardrums. It’s going to be another long night.
Man, I really hate pigeons.