Mom likes birds. She had a bird for awhile and carried it everywhere. It ate her hair and crapped on everyone’s shoes and laid eggs in the most unreachable places that we would discover weeks later. It was supposed to learn how to ‘talk’ but only learned one whistle.
One whistle that it used only while we were watching TV. Or trying to talk on the phone, or anything that didn’t require birds whistling.
It probably never liked me because I would chase it around the house with whatever was handy; a broom, vacuum, my shoe covered in bird crap.
So mom shouldn’t be allowed to have birds in the house. Fair enough.
So now she has bird feeders outside the door. Right outside the door. Like you can’t exit the patio door without hitting your face in birdseed. Occasionally the birds will fly into the door and create a pleasing thump but that’s where my joy from them ends. Until a hording predatory evil comes crawling up.
When mom sees squirrels get out of hand she knows how to deal. My mom takes my little Red Ryder BB gun that I got for Christmas with instructions not to shoot my eye out, and she shoots squirrels that don’t obey the law of the land.
I don’t think she should be allowed to shoot squirrels but since its only a bb gun and its like ten years old and I used to shoot siblings with it it can’t be all that bad.
I have it on good authority that she shouldn’t be allowed to have email either. She probably wouldn’t help out the prince of Nigeria but she would update her password and confirm account numbers and email it off to the ‘bank’ to which she doesn’t even have an account with.
this is for you mom! Not quite what dad had in mind but i'm working on it! There's a bowie knife in there!
THANKS! Dad
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