I've been tormented by birds this week. First the Zombie Duck debacle, then my old foes, the Pigeons, who attempted to splat on me Friday while I waited on the platform for my connecting train.
Me (Hears splat and looks down at puddle of white next to the toe of my boot): Bloody pigeons. (Looks up. There is a large black feathered bag of evil smirking at me & wiggling its tail feathers.)
Bag of Evil: *CoooEeee!* It carefully shuffles further across on its perch and aims a feathered butt at me.
I move. Splat!
Me: Missed, you bugger!
Bag of Evil: *Gah!* Shuffle. Aim. Fire.
Me: WTF? Missed again, though. At this point I moved further down the platform, to the very edge of the sheltered area.
Bag of Evil: *OooooOOOOO* Shuffle Shuffle Shuffle. Aim. Fire.
Me (hastily side-stepping): I swear I will climb up there and kick your feathered arse...
It should be pointed out that issuing threats of violence at pigeons while shaking your fist at them results in a very clear space around you, and the general refusal of any fellow traveller to meet your line of sight. I spent the remaining 8 minutes on that platform in the unsheltered area, keeping an eye out for incoming bird missiles and feeling my face turn numb, which did not improve my temperament. Nobody got on the same carriage as me.
******************
On Saturday I wandered down to the butcher shop. I needed mince to make hamburgers, and these guys also sell some organic vegetables that blow the supermarket produce out of the water for taste, size, and price.
I also wanted to warn them about Zombie Duck, since I have no idea what caused it or whether any other customers had the same issue.
The guy I usually deal with is a friendly chap - always smiling, always with a cheery greeting for everyone. It's one of the reasons I keep going in there; that and their meat quality is excellent. Zombie Duck was an aberration.
Butcher: Hello, there. How were the tongues?
Me: Tongues were great, thank you. Bit of a problem with the duck, though.
Butcher looks mortified: What happened?
Me: It turned green in the oven.
Butcher: What???? (His lower lip starts to quiver.)
Me: Never had that happen before. Has anyone else had that?
Butcher (Shaking head violently): No. Oh, god. Oh, my. I'm so sorry. I'm just-
He breaks off to ring my stuff up. His eyes are starting to - Oh, my dear Gods - my butcher is trying not to cry.
Me (starting to babble): I just thought you needed to know. I'll probably order more tongue soon. Thanks, bye!
I grabbed my purchases and fled. As I stepped outside, I glanced back to see the poor man slumped against a wall, shoulders shaking ever so slightly, and one of his colleagues patting him on the arm.
I walked home feeling mortified. I don't like feeling that I was cause of someone feeling so desolate they had to cry. To be honest, I never know what to do when someone starts crying at the best of times, and having it happen over £10 bird was a bit more than I expected.
I have even more respect for the powers of the undead, though.
Zombie Duck made my butcher weep.
Me (Hears splat and looks down at puddle of white next to the toe of my boot): Bloody pigeons. (Looks up. There is a large black feathered bag of evil smirking at me & wiggling its tail feathers.)
Bag of Evil: *CoooEeee!* It carefully shuffles further across on its perch and aims a feathered butt at me.
I move. Splat!
Me: Missed, you bugger!
Bag of Evil: *Gah!* Shuffle. Aim. Fire.
Me: WTF? Missed again, though. At this point I moved further down the platform, to the very edge of the sheltered area.
Bag of Evil: *OooooOOOOO* Shuffle Shuffle Shuffle. Aim. Fire.
Me (hastily side-stepping): I swear I will climb up there and kick your feathered arse...
It should be pointed out that issuing threats of violence at pigeons while shaking your fist at them results in a very clear space around you, and the general refusal of any fellow traveller to meet your line of sight. I spent the remaining 8 minutes on that platform in the unsheltered area, keeping an eye out for incoming bird missiles and feeling my face turn numb, which did not improve my temperament. Nobody got on the same carriage as me.
******************
On Saturday I wandered down to the butcher shop. I needed mince to make hamburgers, and these guys also sell some organic vegetables that blow the supermarket produce out of the water for taste, size, and price.
I also wanted to warn them about Zombie Duck, since I have no idea what caused it or whether any other customers had the same issue.
The guy I usually deal with is a friendly chap - always smiling, always with a cheery greeting for everyone. It's one of the reasons I keep going in there; that and their meat quality is excellent. Zombie Duck was an aberration.
Butcher: Hello, there. How were the tongues?
Me: Tongues were great, thank you. Bit of a problem with the duck, though.
Butcher looks mortified: What happened?
Me: It turned green in the oven.
Butcher: What???? (His lower lip starts to quiver.)
Me: Never had that happen before. Has anyone else had that?
Butcher (Shaking head violently): No. Oh, god. Oh, my. I'm so sorry. I'm just-
He breaks off to ring my stuff up. His eyes are starting to - Oh, my dear Gods - my butcher is trying not to cry.
Me (starting to babble): I just thought you needed to know. I'll probably order more tongue soon. Thanks, bye!
I grabbed my purchases and fled. As I stepped outside, I glanced back to see the poor man slumped against a wall, shoulders shaking ever so slightly, and one of his colleagues patting him on the arm.
I walked home feeling mortified. I don't like feeling that I was cause of someone feeling so desolate they had to cry. To be honest, I never know what to do when someone starts crying at the best of times, and having it happen over £10 bird was a bit more than I expected.
I have even more respect for the powers of the undead, though.
Zombie Duck made my butcher weep.
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