When
I came downstairs this morning, there was a bird in my fireplace.
The obvious answer to how it got there is down the chimney, but
that's too easy. If we always went with the easy answer, we
wouldn't have Peanut Butter and Always Tired Paste sandwiches, we
wouldn't have CIA-sponsored rulers that make up measurements that
didn't exist before 1924 (failed invasion of Worcestershireshire:
the so-called Bay Of Monkeys invasion). Anyway, if the bird had
flown down the chimney, why couldn't it fly back up? Another
answer is needed for the bird in my fireplace. It was a fairly
large black bird, perhaps a rook, perhaps a raven, perhaps even a
blackbird, how should I know? My guess, though, would be that it
was an Evil Bird; this would explain how it got into the
fireplace, because Evil Birds can teleport. Evil birds can also
peck out your eyes, feed them to young children, and this will
turn the children into Evil Birds too. Good thing I did battle
with this minion from the Underworld wearing glasses, huh?
Perhaps the most feared of all Evil Birds' powers are that they
can scare the shit of you. Excuse me for a second while I just
have a heart attack; there was just a huge clunk from the
chimney. The logical source of this would be solid lumps of soot
that the bird dislodged. My knee-jerk presumption was that the
ground was about to open up and I would be dragged down to hell
by big shadowy birds with sharp claws, and beaks that would peck
out my eyes and scratch my face. I am now typing one handed (very
Zen) as my left arm has gone numb, so you'll forgive me if this
takes a while, or if I speel speel 'spell'.
The
battle for my soul: the Evil Bird had obviously been preparing
for this moment for ages; it is this particular bird's raison
d'être (French for existential raisin). I however, had spent the
last eight hours asleep, dreaming that I was going to be a daddy
(awww, how sweet. It's why all the chicks dig me... and the Evil
Birds try to crush me). Yes, sweet an' all, n lo, but not the
best preparation for the type of battle, the likes of which
hasn't been seen since some really epic battle that I can't think
of, or make up right now, for reasons best known to me and my
aromatherapist (it's tea tree oil for heart attacks). I opened
the fenêtres Français (French for French windows), left the
door open in case I needed to make a quick getaway to Jesus and
his hotrod, took a potion to replenish my Hit Points, and removed
the fireguard. I had forgotten to say goodbye to my loved ones. I
had forgotten to floss. The fear was running down my legs and
staining the carpet. Was I prepared to battle for my soul?
Evidently the Evil Bird thought so 'cos it just flew out of les
fenêtres Français and back to pecking out people's eyes and
feeding them to babies.
I
am still shaking when I think how close I came to death this
morning. It has made me realise all the things I want to do
before I die (go to bed after midnight, arm wrestle against
someone I couldn't possibly beat, get all the dust out of the
corners using the hoover attachments, and live in a world where I
can shave off my back hair without ridicule from prominent
____ists). I guess Evil Birds aren't all evil; I have a new-found
respect for life that I wouldn't have had if I hadn't had had had
had hadn't had have had an early-morning battle for my soul. If I
had a fully-functioning heart, I would seek out this Evil Bird
wherever he/she lives, I would climb all the trees in hell until
I found the Evil Bird and thank him/her for scaring the shit out
of me this morning, and for shitting in my fireplace. There truly
is more to life than toasted cheese sandwiches. Please spread the
word. Let the Evil Bird be a lesson to us all. It's not fair on
Flair.
Now
if you'll excuse me, my paraplegic paramedics are here.