The bloated pigeon

So I was walking down the street the other day and I saw a large bloated pigeon. Just like a pigeon he was struttin and bobbin, but this one real clumsy-like—it seems someone had injected this bird with steroids, you see, 'cause I tell you the dude had an abnormally robust gizzard, which I know you don't know but it's an obvious sign of a doped-up bird.

So like I approached birdie and asked, all jokey, ‘Hey, where’d you get feathers so big--you’re ripped like Mr. Universe, chirpy pie!’ But he’s all mean and he’s like ‘Squawk! Squeak! Nibble nibble,’ and all of a sudden he flies at me, and tries to peck out my face! And I was all like ‘Whoa, chill out, fatass.” So I just sat down on the bench opposite this bird and let him be, instead of trying to help him figure out who the hell doped him up with the ‘roids, and gettin my face pecked at for thanks.

And then next thing along comes a bigass-mother Cadillac truck SUV with tinted windows, and it damn near runs the both of us over sitting on that bench! First I was just like “Holy shit, a car!” and then I was like “Whoa, birdy, that was close.” And I guess I wasn’t so upset at this big tweety for trying to peck me then, since we both just had a near-death experience or some shit like that. So I threw some sandwich crumbs down for ol' Musculo-gizz, said see yah and went about my business. And when I get home I phone the authorities, sayin they shouldn’t damn well put park benches at the edges of goddamn four-lane highways, cuz that’s where this bench where I sat looking at the pigeon was, right at the edge of the curb--which is why we were damn near run over by that bigass Caddy in the first place!

All this proves my point like I always said: birds that don’t squawk real loud, who don’t try to peck out your face, usually don’t gotta put up with choking inner city traffic and rampant freakin steroid abuse. Hell yall, screw it: I’m moving to Wasaga where there's not so much crazy pigeons and insane shit everywhere all the time.