I’m not an unreasonable person. Most of the time, anyway. So when I discovered pigeons living on my home, I said, “Cool. Pigeons.”
Now I see that these birds have repaid my indifference by shitting all over my car. I gave these birds the benefit of the doubt the first couple of times. Maybe they got ahold of a bad batch of whatever it is these birds eat (burritos?), and maybe they just couldn’t hold it till they got over something a little less important than my car (like my neighbor’s car).
My car is bad-ass. Sure it’s old and a little junky. But it’s fast and sleek and strong. It impresses women and intimidates men. My car is a Presence. But coat it in bird shit, and it really takes away from the splendor. I sense that these birds understand that, almost like they’re trying to teach me a lesson about vanity and aspiration: I’m just a dumb, poor kid from a Fountain trailerpark, and I should just drive a Hyundai and be happy with it.
Well, screw you, Pigeons. I went through a lot to get that car, and I’m not going to let you humiliate me. Consider this your eviction notice. Because I’m a gentleman, I won’t shoot you or poison you. But you’ve menaced me (and the cats) for the last time. Soon, I will crawl up to your nest and remove it, placing sharp stainless steel spikes in its place. I might even get a plastic owl.
I gave these birds a chance to coexist peacefully, but now I see that this cannot be. Game on, Pigeon. Game on.