Monday, July 28, 2003

friendly old geezers and putrid half-humans

I feel like shit today. That is all. Move along.

No, wait, I do have something to say. Let me tell you this story:

There’s a neat little pond about 10 minutes away from our house situated in an older neighborhood where we love to go feed the ducks and geese. These guys are totally tame because so many people come to feed them. The pond is surrounded by small houses and the birds loiter and waddle around in the surrounding yards, crossing the street in little duck gangs. They eat straight from your hand, off your shoulder, head—wherever.

So, the husband and I were there with our loaf of bread at dusk and this old Grizzly Adams-looking dude with a big grey beard, cap and dirty t-shirt comes sauntering over and asks us if we’re catching any fish. (Here’s a recap of the more interesting parts of the conversation.)

“No, we’re just feeding the ducks.”

“Oh. Say, you guys know anything about birds?”

“No, not really.”

About this time, a car speeds down the road that circles the pond. The driver floors the gas and makes so much noise that we have to stop talking.

“Jerk,” we say under our breath.

Grizzly informs us that the police are patrolling the pond more because of people speeding through the area.

“Good,” we say.

He gets back to the bird story. “Well. You know a bird that’s 5 feet tall?”

“An ostrich maybe.”

“That don’t fly.”

“An ostrich doesn’t fly.”

“I’m talkin’ about a bird that’s got a wingspan of 70 feet.” Then we figure out he’s thinking of a bird that does fly.

“70 feet?! Uh, that sounds pre-historical to me. Maybe a pterodactyl?”

“Would they have information on that kind of thing at the library?”

“I’m sure they would.”

“I seen it on…you know that movie star with the pointy ears?”


“Yeah! He was on one of them shows where he talks about strange stuff…”

“Oh, yeah, we remember that show (but we couldn’t think of the name of it)…mysterious something?”

“Yeah. They talked about a big bird with a wingspan of 70 feet swoopin’ down and grabbin’ this little boy by the back of the collar and flyin’ off with him…but then he dropped him back down right in his [father’s] arms.”

“Oh…wow. That’s pretty wild.”

“It was up in Ohio or Illinois or something.”


The same car comes around the pond again, only doing 40 mph over the speed limit this time. We all scowl at the ignorant driver. By this time the mosquitoes are in full-feast mode and we’ve been out of bread for 10 minutes.

“Well, we’re getting eaten by mosquitoes, so we’re gonna head out, I guess.”

“Oh, ok. You all have a nice night!” He waves good-bye.

“You, too.”

We get in the car and decide the old guy has been hitting the sauce and I notice something on the side of the road. It’s one of our little ducks, dead. Now, remember the scene in “Something about Mary” where the crazy serial killer short-circuits in Ben Stiller’s car? Multiply that by at least 10.

How big of a pussy do you need to be to run over DUCKS and get a kick out of it? I don’t know if it was the car that sped by while we were talking to our sauced-up old geezer-friend, but if it wasn’t, it was someone equally as stupid. It had also been recent because there were no insects on the bird. These ducks know the rules and get out of your way, but YOU HAVE TO SLOW DOWN FOR THEM. I am wondering if it was our little limping duck to whom we always gave extra snacks. I didn’t see him last night and he would have been an easy target. Anyway, I had to drug myself with cream cheese dip last night just to calm down (quick quiz: has this girl ever had an eating disorder in her life? Y or N). How could you get a laugh out of killing something so tame and harmless? Red-rum. Red-rum! RED-RUM! RED-RUM!!! The only thing that gives me comfort is the old “what goes around comes around.” There’s a special place in hell for these people and I hope I get to open the furnace door and shove them in with my big right foot. I’ll be wearing yo’ mama’s army boots.

Did I mention I feel crappy today? Hugs and kisses. Bah!


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