Hey. You. Bird. Yes, you. The little baby robin who let me walk right up to him and take his picture, close-up. Yes, you. I’ll call you Louie. Hey, Louie. You’re one stupid fuck.
Look at you. What the hell are you, anyway? A robin that doesn’t fly – or has, with amazing irony for a dinosaur descendant with wings, a fear of flying? Your belly is that of a robin, but you have the wings of a sparrow. What kind of crossbreeding is going on here? You idiot.
I’ve seen you hopping around my house since you apparently fell out of your tree prior to getting the Flying 101 lesson from your parents. When I took the picture displayed here, you were in the middle of a multi-hour vigil on my fence, during which time your mother showed up every few minutes to give you a bit of a flailing worm. You tool.
I hate you, Louie, you little fuck. Don’t you know what’s out there waiting for you?
There are dogs being walked by people who think their shit is ideal for my garbage cans. Any one of those dogs, working on instinct, could yank free of their mocha-swilling owners and bite your head clean off. Or maybe just maul you to death, thinking you to be little more than a wind-up doggy toy.
And what of the cars, you idiot? The cars give no crap about you or your smaller wings which compromise your ability to fly away at a moment’s notice. Yet you hop around as if there are no cars lined up to send you to birdy heaven.
And, my god, did you forget I have an indoor/outdoor cat, Felicia, who patrols the neighborhood looking for fun – and by fun, I mean the strict desire to kill for pleasure? Did you not know that cats, no matter how domesticated, kill for fun when given the chance? And, oh boy, is she looking for the next chance. If you traverse the gangway between my home and my neighbors, you’ll see so many mouse carcasses that it looks like a miniature version of Cambodia’s goddamn Killing Fields.
There’s a swarm of mobs, either in dog, cat or gas-driven forms, waiting to take you the fuck out the moment you make a wrong move.
I really hate you, Louie, you rancid fuck.
Because I wish we were not so much alike.