One Man Homicide Machine
by
Brendan Anthony
on August 02nd, 11:08am 2008
The more we delve into the midwest, the thicker the cloud of insects becomes. Might be hard to see but my helmet is covered in the exploded corpses of tens of bugs. Some are bigger than others. When one of the giant ones hits at 65 mph it feels like somebody threw a small water balloon at my chest. Still, nothing so far has been able to prepare me for this:
I hit a bird. With my face.
Expectedly, he totally died. Sorry about that man.
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I can imagine how you felt - remember when you killed that slug with salt?
I know it’s not your intent, but you realize the photo of yourself over the corpse has more of a menacing look? Why not send that back to his nest for his chicks to see? You bastard.
I DO remember that slug with the salt. Vividly. It was great fun until you made me feel awful, haha. Although that was intentionally malicious- this was an accident!
Joel- you’re right, heh heh. “What now! What! Bring it on!!!”
Homicide Update: Brendan has killed his second bird. The chances of this are astronomical!
This is the funniest thing I’ve heard all week. Although I just realized it’s Monday so that’s not saying too much.
I look forward to a story of you waking up abruptly during the night after having a horrible nightmare of being attacked by birds. Perhaps your find yourself riding directly into a giant windshield like piece of glass curiously placed across the road, only to look up and find 600 birds flapping their wings wildly holding it perfectly in place.
Remember, it’s just a dream.
It’s like that Depeche mode song:
“Death is everywhere
There are flies on the windscreen
For a start
Reminding us
We could be torn apart”
Only replace “flies” with “birds.”