I'm walking to work at 8:30am, the air is cold but lacks the
crisp edge that rural air has in the morning. I'm wearing
black trousers and a
white shirt under my
trademark long black coat, and I’m striding purposefully along in my
big black boots. I would probably look good if not for my fat face,
dorky hair and out of date
glasses. As I walk I cross path with a
swarm of pigeons fighting over the end of a
loaf of bread, I stride through them and all but one explodes up in to the air with a an immense
cacophony of beating wings.
All but one, the last pigeon stumbles back and looks up at me, is it angry, its it proud, is it to dumb to fly away?
So I look down at this lone bird and say “get with the program, pigeon” and there was the sound of a single pair of fluttering wings.
True story