Several weeks ago, I was walking home at night and almost stepped on a small bird that was hanging out on the sidewalk. I was both confused and intrigued. Why didn’t the bird run away from me as other people do? There is clearly something wrong with it.
The bird was sitting upright and was alive and chirpy but I don’t think that all the lights were on upstairs. Maybe it flew into a window? Maybe it is also doing a PhD and goes home every night, completely delirious and takes shots of vodka until the world seems better? I mean… I don’t do that…
Anyway, I left the bird on the sidewalk and ran home to get a shoebox. Returning to the bird, I picked it up and put it inside the shoebox with the intention of returning home and nursing it back to health. While I’d like to say that this was for purely unselfish reasons, I really just wanted to train it to bring my sweater to me in the morning, Sleeping Beauty style.
Let me tell you two things. One, the bird did not bring my sweater to me. Two, I need to wrap up this story because the grocery store near my house is closing soon. So I bring the bird home in the shoebox and put it in the corner of my room. I go to sleep thinking that I will take it to some park ranger or sell it to a wolf in the morning.
Alas. At 2 a.m. I am awoken by a bat from hell, speeding around my room and knocking over all of my economics textbooks I mean cool things that interesting people have. I grab my baseball bat, The Educator, and begin swinging wildly and knock over more… cool things that interesting people have… But when I realize that it is the bird, I try to guide it out of the apartment. You might be wondering why the bird was unable to fly 5 hours earlier but now was cruising like the Air Force One (is this a shoe? I’ve never understood American culture), but I don’t have a good answer. Eventually I was able to get the bird out of our apartment and into the apartment building hallway. The bird flew up the apartment building stairs and I tried to follow it for a while but got tired after climbing three steps.
And that’s the story of why there is a bird living (or.. maybe not living..) somewhere in my apartment building. Good night!