Will Things Ever Be The Same Again? It’s the Final Countdown

I’m afraid that one day something truly terrible will happen to me. Something worse than walking into a trashcan in seventh grade and getting mocked endlessly about it for the rest of the year (I can think of at least two people who would still double over laughing today at the very mention of that incident). I am afraid of this because of what I’ve done.

When the Cheeky Chipmunk moved into my apartment, she had big plans. She wanted to throw things out and to optimize every inch of our space. She’d come from LA and wasn’t used to sleeping in a room the size of a shoe box, though she’d learn. She even wanted to get rid of the air conditioner left in her window because it didn’t work. Radical, but I was game to help.

It was a chilly winter night when we both put on our rubber gloves and prepared to rip the out machine that had been in the window so long, it had grown into the sill. As the Cheeky Chipmunk opened the window, we realized there was a nest on it. There were no eggs or babies or evidence that it was frequently used, but a nest nonetheless. In my typically understated manner, I flipped out.

I am not comfortable messing with pigeons, as I fear their retribution worse than I fear hell. I have anxiety about birds in general, but pigeons’ unique filth and bloated population make them an especial threat. In the end, the Cheeky Chipmunk knocked the nest off herself; a sin she will surely face the consequences of some day.

We carried it out to the curb, giving the pigeons a chance to inspect their ruined home and see exactly who ruined it. I sprinted back into my building like a coward, but it was too late. They knew me.

Since then, pigeons have flown straight at my head, flapped at me, and, in one particularly cruel moment, a pigeon pooped on me outside of Sbarro Pizzeria in Times Square and no one would give me a napkin to clean my arm until I bought something. But I know they have something worse in store. If one day, this blog only reads in coos, you’ll know that it’s too late for me. Everyone has to pay the piper.


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