2003-07-28 - 3:58 p.m.


there are baby birds outside the window in a wooden birdhouse. they are chirping their stupid heads off. a constant assault of squeaky bird noises haunt my ears and i believe that if it doesn't stop soon, i will go outside and cut their cute little beaks off one by one. the mother, seeing this, will swoop at my head. i will knock her out with a mighty whack of my dominant left arm. with a chirp of defeat, she will fall to the ground. stepping over her, i will move back to the babies and tell them, though they won't understand, that


i've never liked birds. and they don't like me. the proof lies in my birdpoop covered belongings.


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