the foreign embassy
Background
You've reached the website of Eric Kurzenberger, formerly of Cleveland, Ohio, then New York City, and now, Los Angeles. This site is updated on a somewhat irregular basis: no apologies. It's worth reading. If you need to contact me, I can be reached at info_at_theforeignembassy_dot_com.
Now Playing
Recent Entries
Cute
Blackened
Radiohead at the Greek
Butterbeer, Burgers, Bliss
The Man in the Rain
Baby 101
These Days
Finally...
New Year
Bits
Highlights
Dreams of Cool Waters
The Tattooed Man
The General Orders a Pizza
Zen and the Art of iBook Repair
Dark
Breakdown, Go Ahead and Give It To Me
The Forensic Engineer
This is the Story of Bernard and Bernice
Half-Hour Fiction
Archives
March 2007
September 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
March 2006
January 2006
December 2005
October 2005
August 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
December 2004
November 2004
October 2004
September 2004
August 2004
July 2004
June 2004
April 2004
March 2004
February 2004
January 2004
December 2003
November 2003
October 2003
September 2003
August 2003
July 2003
June 2003
May 2003
April 2003
March 2003
February 2003
January 2003
December 2002
November 2002
Search


Syndicate this site (XML)


valid-xhtml10.png

movabletype


the foreign embassy

Birds

These little brown birds have begun collecting on my windowsill in the mornings, and they like to greet the rising sun with incredibly loud repetitive chirps that manage to pierce the glass and brick and drive directly into my subconscious. As a result, most of my dreams the last couple days have been segueing abruptly from whatever pleasant fantasy I've got going on in my head to swarms of attacking birds. And it's not pleasant. And these things are so damn loud, I can't fall asleep for more than fifteen minutes or so at a time after that initial wake-up call, and any subsequent dreams are just birds.

As a result, I'm really beginning to hate the little suckers.

In retaliation, I figure I've got the following options:

Option 1: I can buy the little kid across the street a .22 with a scope and commission him to pick off the unsuspecting feather bundles as they alight on my windowsill. Drop a couple of the suckers, word would get around right quick, and they'd soon find another place to congregate. Problem is, I don't know how the little kid's mother would react to my arming her son and sending him off on the Dawn Patrol. And even if she was okay with it, I've watched her kid play basketball on his Nerf hoop, and his aim's so bad, he's lucky if he can hit the sidewalk. Giving this kid a rifle and having him fire away at my windows might not be the best of ideas.

Option 2: I get myself a cat, and raise him entirely on the window ledge. Set up a little platform out there he can sleep on, give him a little water in a dish, and let him earn his keep and his dinner by killing and eating whatever comes in his jurisdiction. The ledge is plenty wide enough for a cat to walk on (provided the cat's on the not-to-hefty side), and if he played his cards right, he could get a pretty good daily catch. Granted, life on a window ledge might not be the cushiest of cat existences, but hey, New York's a rough town, and iit could be a lot worse. And I could set up a little awning that would keep most of the rain off.

I'm leaning toward the Option 2, right now, but we'll see how tomorrow morning goes. I get woken up by the feathery bastards one more time, I might have to get drastic.

Posted by ekurzen at May 27, 2003 10:10 PM