6/20/2007
I've About Had It With These Cock-Sucking Songbirds
Guest editorial by Man in Bed, Hungover
Sure, they're cute, and yes, they have pretty songs. On most mornings I would be sitting on the deck, latte in hand, and enjoy the music of the morning.
But I've got a hangover, and I've about had it with these cock-sucking songbirds.
If I could stand I would walk to the closet, grab my .22, and shoot every last one of those chirpy-ass bastards. Then I would cut the heads off their carcasses and run them through metal spikes, planting the bloody bird-heads around the house as a warning to any other motherfucking birds who might want to serenade me.
As it is, all I can do is lie here and puke in this Tupperware container as these goddamned avian devils torture me.
When I get better, I am going to buy a flamethrower and burn every fucking tree within 100 yards of my house, depriving these winged fuckers of a place to torment me. Then I am going to purchase a 55-gallon drum of industrial-strength rat poison and mix it with bird seed, so I can not only kill these Godless tweeters but also watch them scrunch up their tiny bird-eyes as the warfarin slowly induces fatal internal bleeding, and as they look up at me with their death-faces, I will hollowly laugh like a crazed, homeless quantum physicist.
Until then, you shit-eating winged bastards.
Sure, they're cute, and yes, they have pretty songs. On most mornings I would be sitting on the deck, latte in hand, and enjoy the music of the morning.
But I've got a hangover, and I've about had it with these cock-sucking songbirds.
If I could stand I would walk to the closet, grab my .22, and shoot every last one of those chirpy-ass bastards. Then I would cut the heads off their carcasses and run them through metal spikes, planting the bloody bird-heads around the house as a warning to any other motherfucking birds who might want to serenade me.
As it is, all I can do is lie here and puke in this Tupperware container as these goddamned avian devils torture me.
When I get better, I am going to buy a flamethrower and burn every fucking tree within 100 yards of my house, depriving these winged fuckers of a place to torment me. Then I am going to purchase a 55-gallon drum of industrial-strength rat poison and mix it with bird seed, so I can not only kill these Godless tweeters but also watch them scrunch up their tiny bird-eyes as the warfarin slowly induces fatal internal bleeding, and as they look up at me with their death-faces, I will hollowly laugh like a crazed, homeless quantum physicist.
Until then, you shit-eating winged bastards.
Labels: hangover, hungover, songbirds
Comments:
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Somebody seems to be just a teensy bit out-of-sorts this morning ;-)
Maybe if you puke your butthole out from behind your teeth, you'll feel a but better.
Either way, I know that I'll feel better just watching :-)
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Maybe if you puke your butthole out from behind your teeth, you'll feel a but better.
Either way, I know that I'll feel better just watching :-)
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