Lately I have been very interested in bird-watching and plumage identification. This has been very useful to me as a way of overcoming my grief over the death of my adolescent housekeeper Patty Knees, who passed away after inhaling five pounds of melted candy through a large straw. In any case, I have become a regular John James Audubon! (I'm not referring to the famed ornithologist, mind you, but rather the Miami weatherman who was recently found nude on the beach screaming at random birds.) I am pleased to report that I have become so adept at this activity that I have actually managed to identify several new species of birds trilling around my vast Vermont estate. Herewith are some of these species and the common characteristics they exhibit.
The bobbingale, small and red-plumed with a black stripe along its tail and a beak made entirely of sawtooth oak. It glued this beak on itself in 1994 after losing its original beak in a vicious barfight with Mickey Rourke. The fight broke out after the bobbingale became drunk and accused Rourke of receiving lip, cheek and collarbone implants in order to win the role of a sex-starved fruit pie in the Joel Schumacher romantic comedy Too Much Goo!!!???? The bobbingale hasn't seen Rourke since, but is happy about his recent comeback, even if he does think it will prove to be short-lived.
The red-bearded night hawk, known for being a hawk and having a red beard. The red-bearded night hawk ain't got all the goddamn time in the world to sit around jawing with the likes of you. The red-bearded night hawk was at the Stones's Altamont concert in '69, but complained that there "wasn't enough ACTION, baby". It once walked into a church right in the middle of Sunday service and broke a pool cue over the altar, just to "get a little somethin' shakin'!" It often places its wings over an open fire in the hopes that the pain will help it see God.
The blood-spattered blue jay is basically just a blue jay covered in blood. It comes home more often than not at 1 am, covered in blood with a haunted look in its eyes. Trembling, you ask it where it's been and what the blood's from. The only answer it ever gives is "I am making things right. Soon the Lord will take note of my deeds and deliver us, deliver us all." It sometimes hangs out with the red-bearded night hawk, drafting up "blueprints" for something they call "The Final Assignment". Don't talk to either of these birds, or the first one either for that matter. Just avoid birds, for they are thousands of years old and subsist on human anxiety.
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