Chapter Eight


It took me a while to figure out what was so unordinary about those birds, but once I got close enough, I realized what it was: they had faces, and not regular, feather-covered faces with beaks and little beady eyes, but human faces. Human faces with skin, white and black, brown, yellow faces with button noses and full lips that I almost wanted to kiss, they looked so sweet.

I remember staring at one, and wondering, “My, what a beaut. I feel like I could mate with one of those birds. Cheeks so supple, a tight little…”

But before I could even finish my thought, I blinked, and when I opened my eyes again, that same bird that I fell in love with (I named her Helen) was munching on the nose of a pedestrian! I mean, blood everywhere; this guy was screaming his lungs out, and I just stood there watching. What else can you do in that situation? I guess I could have run up to the bird and flung him off, but I didn’t wanna get bitten, ya’ know? People say crime is caused by those that don’t do anything, but people also vote for Donald Trump so, I stopped caring for people a while back.

It actually excited me to see that guy’s face get ripped apart; his outfit was ugly (a periwinkle cardigan around his neck, and jorts), and when he walked, he puffed up his chest and sucked in his belly, and I imagined punching him in the fucking mouth, but luckily the bird got to him first.

I’ve been feeling very cynical lately; I wonder if it has anything to do with my tiny penis.

I like to imagine myself as God. If I were Him, I’d float around space and uncage birds that bit folks, too. I’d probably take a shit on the moon, and have everyone on Earth wonder what that smell was. Enough of the vulgarity, let us take a moment and appreciate this lovely maple tree. There are worms in its dirt, and squirrels on its branches, maple in its blood, and a blotchy red-and-white-faced blackbird pissing on its trunk, laughing, and smoking a cigarette.

Conceal and carry worked like a charm; men shot women who were trying to shoot birds, and birds ate the brains of the wounded, still twitching and gasping for life. The street flooded in red, and if you weren’t dead from the birds or the bullets, you were likely to drown, but yet I watched. I watched until my eyes began to bleed, and god! I loved the turmoil. Sometimes, at home, when my wife’s out and the dog’s asleep, I rip my toenails off and stare at the strands of skin that break like my heart when I think about how terribly troubled my brain actually is. Everyone’s a little loony, if you ask me. While all of this nonsense was going on, I saw someone’s grandpa pick up a baby, and hand it off to a bird who flew away, and probably sodomized the thing in a nest somewhere on a cliff above the clouds.

On a lighter note, the sun was out that day. It rained a little, too, and a rainbow came, and I wonder if a pot of gold got stolen by a black guy; they steal everything, don’t they? Can’t trust ‘em. Can’t trust the Middle Easterners either, they’re all terrorists, and even though we bomb the shit out them, they have no right to do it us! America! Let freedom ring from the mouths of the birds that gobble our ugly ass faces, chew us up, and spit us into a toilet; we swirl i n f i n i t e l y.

8 birds + 23 dead bodies – 16 limbs (4 noodles) + me = 12 CPD Tahoes / 4 officers + 120 soldiers and needle-pricked vets with tin cups X 1 M4 X 2 SIG-Sauer P226s X 1 Ka-Bar combat knife = math’s never really been my thing, but I can tell you that it equaled a lot of mayhem, and as it all happened, I snuck inside of the Sears Tower, took the elevator up to the 110th floor, found a few unlocked locks, and got onto the roof. I sat on the edge of the building, legs dangling, and I wrote a note, and I’ll share that note with you now, if you’d like. It read:


Dear Brave New World,

All that I’ve ever wanted was understanding. I just wanted someone to get me, ya’ know? I understand that it’s nearly impossible to let your guard down, and actually allow empathy to take a hold of your body, but come on, work with me a little. I walk down the street these days, and no one even smiles anymore. No one even looks mad. This might sound absurd, but I’d rather have an upsetting encounter with someone than none at all, at least then I’d be using my emotions rather than letting them rot away inside of my soul. I just want someone to realize that I’m here, and I want that someone to realize that he or she is here, too, and we’re both here in this ongoing tornado, and we’re both human, and nothing else matters because at this current moment in time, we’re together.

I love this life, and as much as I condemn my situations, I couldn’t imagine anything better. I have a mind, and opposable thumbs that do things sometimes, and I have a heart that beats so loudly on occasion that I feel like ripping it out of my chest, and giving it to someone on the sidewalk, walking past me with that blank stare that’s killing me and spitting on the gift of consciousness! We deserve each other. I promise that I’ll at least try to understand you, if you do the same for me. I’ll smile, if you promise to smile back. Until that day comes, I suppose, I’ll be here, watching the world bleed itself out, and loop around again in another million years or so. I’ll be here, and so will you, and nothing else will matter.

With Love,



I watched that note fall from the sky, and glide down and down, flying like a bird with a face, and a face with a smile.


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