Stumbling back into my apartment block just before 7am, half delirious from a 12 hour nightshift, I look up and see a bloated pigeon staring back at me. The curious little thing seems as delirious as me, it makes a cooing noise. I grunt and make my way back towards my flat.
There are some conspiracy theories that pigeons aren't even birds at all, just government-controlled robots sent to spy on us. Of course, I dabble in no such ideas but it does make me wonder what the pigeons think as I wake them from their slumber, delirious and sleep deprived after the night shift.
Is he a drunkard? A drug addict? Wait, I think I must release my bowels on his head.
Thankfully, this hasn't happened yet, but I feel it is inevitable given the little perch above the entrance that they call home.
No comments:
Post a Comment