This morning dove was enjoying the coolness of our steel & brick loft building. It was so committed to its siesta that it allowed me to walk up within three feet of it. The bird had its priorities straight.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Urban Dove (Weekend Photo)
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A Transcript...
Ariel (thinking): Oooh, a dove. A living symbol of peace. An avian avatar of Love and Life. How lovely.
Pigeon/Dove/Rat with wings/"Larry": Hey, something for me to poop on. I wonder if I can lure him over.
Ariel (thinking): Maybe I can take a picture of this wonderful creature for my blog Bittershmmm Hmmmm: Something w/ Razors.
Larry: He's coming over. And he has a camera. Aces!
Ariel (full of love): Hold still little fella. This won't hurt a bit.
Larry (full of loathing for all things human and aiming for the KU emblem on Ariel's shirt): Same to you buddy... Except for the hurting part.
KU-loathing, God-hating, atheistic sniper sent to dispatch Ariel for his promotion of both God and KU and his hip indie-blog status, coincidentally(?) also named Larry (putting the reticle on the back of Ariel's head): Die, brilliant writer of edgy Christian content!
[the next moment is a blur of activity and inactivity, of sound and silence, of life and death]
Ariel: <click>
Sniper rifle: <expertly silenced bang> (we're talking chamber and muzzle suppression here as well as the use of sub-sonic rounds - a bad shot he may be, but ballistically, this assassin is teched-out)
Ariel: Got it!
Sniper Larry: Whaaa?!?
Pigeon Larry (perfectly imitating the sound of several thousand feathers exploding in every direction at once): Poof!
Ariel: Hey it's raining feathers... Maybe that was an angel. God is good.
Sniper Larry: Curse my inexplicable atheistic code of honor that only allows me to bring one round of ammunition on an assignment!!
Pigeon Larry: Ooh, a tunnel and a light at the end. An orange flickering light... Man it's hot in here...
Join us next week when Ariel ponders C. S. Lewis' favorite flavor of ice cream, our assassin returns with a close ranged weapon, and we ask that ever important question, do pigeon's go to hell?
You realize of course that the above comment started out as a two line joke about how filthy pigeons are. Two hundred words later I was struggling with how to resolve the tension without you getting pooped on (hence the invention of Sniper Larry), fifty words later, I was doing a google search to find out approximately how many feathers a pigeon has... and so on.
I guess the moral of the story (with apologies to Airplane!'s McCrosky ) is this: there are some days that are better than others to quit taking methamphetamines...
Disclaimer: This is a joke. I am joking. You have been joked with.
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