This morning I was woken up at the butt crack of dawn by an obnoxious little bird squawking at the balcony door. Normally I sleep in temperature controlled, air-conditioned comfort, but after some afternoon storms yesterday it was decidedly cooler than usual so I opened up the French doors that lead from the bedroom out to the balcony and cranked the ceiling fan up.
Me: (awoken from blissful slumber) The fuck?!?
Bird: (let’s call him Dicky, cos y’know – Dicky Bird. Actually, just Dick. Cos he is one.)
Me: (from bed) SHUT UP!!!
Hubs: (awoken from blissful slumber) The fuck?!?
Me: Ugh, there’s a fucking bird squawking at the door!!!
Hubs: Is there? Cos that’s not what woke me up!
Me: See! I told you! There’s the bastard!
Hubs: I’m not denying that there is a bird there. I’m just saying it wasn’t the birds squawking that woke me up…
Me: Where’s your slingshot?
Hubs: The. Fuck?
Me: Can you reach it from there? Cos I really don’t want to have to get up.
Hubs: You will have to get up to open the screen door, anyway.
Me: Good point. So, where is it?
Hubs: I’m not telling you. Go back to sleep.
Me: I can’t! It’s squawking even louder now! Do you think it knows it’s about to become road-kill?
Hubs: Shooting a bird with a slingshot does not make it road-kill. You have to hit it with your car for that.
Me: You’re right. Where are my keys?
Hubs: The bird is on the balcony railing. Exactly how are you going to run it over? Without taking out the house, that is?
Me: Obviously, I can’t. Which is why I need the slingshot! Sheesh. Why do I have to explain everything to you?
Hubs: I can’t do this before coffee. Please, go back to sleep! The bird isn’t even squawking anymore. Just you.
Hubs: (to Dick) Way to have my back, Bro.
Me: Oh, so you two are ganging up on me now? Fucking typical! You’ve never even met this bird before and already your loyalty is with him?!? What. The. Actual. Fuck? Didn’t our vows mean anything to you?
Hubs: I don’t recall anything in our wedding vows about birds.
Me: FOR BETTER OR WORSE, MOTHERFUCKER!
Hubs: I didn’t realise it was an either/or situation.
Me: Well, it is! EITHER you help me, OR I will stab you!
Hubs: Coffee, dear?
Me: Well, duh!
Hubs: You want me to get you a knife while I’m in the kitchen?
Me: Yes. And the slingshot.
Hubs: I am not getting you the fucking slingshot, just so you can take your intolerance for everything AM out on an innocent bird!
Me: First of all, he is hardly innocent. Secondly, I’m not going to hit the bird…
Hubs: That’s right. Because you’re a terrible shot. Even after coffee.
Me: Exactly. So if I aim for the bird, I’m bound to miss. He will fly away and, after his near death experience, will have a whole new lease on life and go and fulfil all his wildest dreams. All thanks to me. (to Dick) You’re fucking welcome, asshole!
Hubs: I wonder what a birds’ wildest dreams are?
Me: To cross the road without having their motives questioned?
Hubs: He’s not a chicken.
Me: Ain’t that the truth. Little fucker’s got some balls waking me up at ungodly o’clock!
Hubs: Yup. More balls than me.
Hubs: Wait, what?
Me: More balls… But less brains, darling. That’s why you were getting coffee… Remember?
And a knife. Wait, why did I need a knife again?
Hubs: You don’t need a knife. You need a lobotomy.
Me: Now I remember why I needed the knife…
Hubs: How much sleep have you had?
Me: Fuck all, thanks to that fucking bird!
Hubs: I’m pretty sure it’s not the birds fault you were up all night Facebooking.
Me: Excuse me! I was not up all night Facebooking… I was researching! My blog does not just write itself, you know. Well, actually it kinda just did. I am so posting this conversation on there!
Hubs: What the?… Why would you do that? Who would want to read this shit?
Me: Umm… Everyone! Because it’s hilarious. In a mildly stabby sort of way.
Hubs: Wanting to kill birds is not hilarious. That’s what serial killers do.
Me: No. Serial killers kill a series of people. Hence the name.
Hubs: Yes, but they usually start with animals.
Me: I dropped a bowl of Froot Loops last night. So technically, I already am one. And I think you’re forgetting that I’m not going to hurt the bloody bird!
Hubs: You are a fucking Froot Loop.
Me: Did you find the slingshot yet?
Hubs: What for?
Me: The fuck do you mean “what for?”… THE BIRD!!!
Hubs: What bird?
Me: Huh? Oh… He’s gone. Stupid thing. Just when all his dreams were about to become a reality. What a bird brain.
Hubs: Drink your fucking coffee, nut job.
*** Note: This conversation never actually happened. I dreamt the whole thing and then woke up to the sound of a bird squawking on my balcony. I would never hurt a bird or any other creature. After coffee, that is. Before coffee, it’s probably best to just keep the doors closed and the knives out of reach.