Dead Birds

After my co-worker was shat upon by a bird, he must have carried on with his day with no other thoughts in mind. Days later (maybe weeks), he dressed himself with the same shirt without washing it. Dried cuh-cah was on his shoulder and I noticed it in the lunch room. Discussing poo was entertaining enough and then another co-worker walked in. He did not take part in the conversation taking place, but listened for a bit and intruded wit the most welcomed story ever imagined.

"They say shit is luck. I wasn't that lucky. Walking on the streets of Chicago a few years ago, I was hit hard by an object falling from the sky. Not certain what the object was, yet sure of the pain, I looked around the ground to find a dead pigeon next to me."

For those slow on the uptake, the man was hit with a dead fucking bird. This co-worker was many a thing, and a liar was one of them, but I believe this story to be true. His experience was honest.

But what about the bird? I wonder how it happened. We will never know but can hope that he/she caught the first worm of the day and spent life's last hours chewing and regurgitating said worm for its young who then flew the coop.

If we can't hope, what can we do?