Posted in Desert Life

Beat it, kid

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“Keep it moving, pal!”

“What?”

“We don’t serve your kind here…on yer way.”

“What? Why?”

“This is a hummingbird feeder. Hummingbirds only.”

“I’m a hummingbird.”

“You are not.”

“No, wait…I’m TOTALLY a hummingbird, just having a little snack here. Mmm—tasty.”

“Dude, you are NOT a hummingbird.”

“Sure I am. Listen: hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. See? Whaddaya call that?”

“I call that ‘bullshit.’ Get going.”

“But…”

“Go.”

“Well, I AM a hummingbird. But for argument’s sake, if I weren’t a hummingbird (which I SO am), you know that not letting me eat here would totally be discrimination, right?”

“Dude, there’s no argument to be had; you’re a woodpecker. And as the owner and manager of this establishment, I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. Especially known trouble-makers. ”

“Wha-? What trouble am I making? Er, I mean, if I WERE a woodpecker (which I am SO not), what trouble could I possibly be making?”

“You and your bastard friends have been pecking holes into my house for the last 4 years, and you know it. Federal law is the only thing keeping you from having a rear-end full of bbs; I’m not about to serve you a meal. Get out of here. Now. You’re bogarting my feeders, and my hummingbirds are getting cranky—can’t you hear them?

“Um…hmmmmmmmmmm?”

“GET THE HELL OFF MY FEEDER BEFORE I GET THE HOSE!”

“Well, if you’re going to get loud about it…fine, I’ll go…I know where I’m not wanted…hmmmmmmm…”

“Don’t. Even.”
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Author:

I've been doing some form of creative writing since 9th grade, and have been a blogger since 2003. Like most bloggers, I've quit blogging multiple times. But the words always come back, asking to be written down, and they pester me if I don't. So here we are. Thanks for reading.

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