There it is, the damn birds are back. Despite my best efforts at a peaceful resolution, including:
-Placing a taxidermie'd panther in the garage to scare them off
-Hanging a rubber snake from the wall right in front of their favorite spot
-Flying in Jimmy Carter and Jesse Jackson to negotiate their peaceful retreat
they returned last night. I was not thinking and left the garage door open after returning from a shopping trip to Kohl's, and like clockwork, when I went outside moments later to shut the door, they were sitting there. Yes, THEY. There's two of them.
I destroyed their nest last weekend (when I went out in my Batman suit to scare them off), so presumably they have returned to build another. For a moment I admired their stubbornness. Salut'd them, I did. Then...
as I walked under the garage door opener where they were perched, one of them crapped in my McFlurry (the photo doesn't do it justice - trust me, it was gross). It was a B+ shot, landing 85% in the cup and 15% on the edge, where it dripped down to my hand. I was steamed. I mean, that thing cost $2.25 with tax, and while I'd already finished most of it on the drive home (dangerous, by the way) that's not the point. Its bad enough to squat on my property, and crap on the garage floor. But to relieve yourself in my frozen dairy desert? A dessert with M&M's? Oh, no you dih'n't! I wag my finger at you!
I mean, even the most hardcore animal rights person would advocate the swift and painful death of this horrible creature. You just don't go number two in a man's McFlurry without some kind of swift repercussions. No less than capital punishment delivered in a long and prolonged manner would suit.
Death awaits, birdy.
Now, here's where I have a confession. I might say I want to kill it, but deep down I'm too much of a softie to ever kill something that big. I would be inconsolable, for minutes on end. But then I'd probably come write a post about it and feel OK. But maybe not. So I decided, no bird homicides would be committed by my hand.
Off came The Shoe, and from the basement (where that photo was taken) I went out to the garage to threaten the bird.
Lets just say the birds were not impressed with the shoe. They refused to show it the proper level of respect. This is unacceptable.
I had a thought of closing the garage door, leave The Colorado running, and let an immense amount of carbon monoxide build up in there, eventually turning the garage into a gas chamber for them to perish in. I mean, they crapped in my McFlurry!
But I thought better of it and just left the door open hoping their would fly out on their own recognizance. The bastards.
I don't know what else to try, outside of murder, which I don't want to do. Maybe I'll invite this guy over, he's pretty scary without his makeup on:
I don't know. For once, I'm really at a loss. I'm usually never speechless, but this has me buffaloed. Maybe I should leave my radio on out there, playing George Michael's Freedom 90 over and over again on an endless loop...
It shall be done. No one could stand that. Not even the Other Guy From Wham!
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