A strange thing happened last Friday. It was late, probably after midnight. Me and my bald boy were watching a movie and stuffing our faces with hot, hot pizza. The drama was intense, the cheese was gooey, our fingers messy. A lull in the action facilitated our hearing something odd. Birds. Not just one kind either, but several. These strange species were singing, chirping and crowing at night.
What the hell. Every night since then, there they are. Listen...hear that? Where did these demon spawn aviary come from? What the shit kind of birds sing during the darkest hours of the night? What are they up to in those trees out there? More importantly, should I be worried? Are they planning a takeover? See, this is what happens to me when random strange things occur that I can't get away from. My mind takes odd detours from the realm of real possibility. I daydream, fantasize, create macabre situations that I honestly pray will never come to pass.
Please, if there is any justice in the universe, the crazy-birds will stop interrupting my late-night puttering with...what the hell ever they're doing. It's hard to concentrate on Conan, uh, I mean (something constructive like) writing my screenplay, when I'm thinking up ways to escape a terrorist bird attack.
Damn. I should probably just be going to sleep as soon as I get home to skip the whole thing. Including the screenplay avoidance.
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