Don't you hate it when that happens? You're walking down the sidewalk and you come upon a group of pigeons. And there's either that one diseased one with the puffed out neck or the scrawny one with the matted feathers and the red eyes. You both size each other up but there's no where to run. You and the flying rat, which by the way may or may not be covered in it's own shit, are heading for a collision course. Sure, you're a terrestrial being confined to the ground but that mother can fly. And they're unpredictable. As you get closer he flaps around in the air and makes a bee line for your head. You break first and duck like a fool, curious onlookers wonder if you have tourettes.
Yep, this happens to me everyday as I walk home from the subway, and the cigarette girl with her dumpy ass thinks I'm a psycho.
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