This morning, I met my friend Arleen at Target, our meet-up spot before heading to the beach. On the pavement next to where Arleen parked was a puddle of something red and incredibly sticky, like a melted lollipop. And stuck in that sticky red mess was a bird. No doubt it flew in to check out the puddle, see if it was edible, landed on it, and found itself in a whole heap of trouble. The poor thing kept flapping its wings and getting nowhere. I couldn't very well continue on my merry little way and just leave it like that, so I bent down, grabbed it, and gently pulled its legs out of the puddle. I then turned to Arleen to see if she wanted to pet it--I mean, how often do you get to hold a wild bird?--but I didn't have a good grip, and it flew out of my hands, narrowly missing Arleen's face.
YOU GUYS, I RESCUED A FUCKING BIRD. That is some Cinderella-type shizz. Jealous?
|Me, this morning|