Well, here's what it has come to -- the pie tins are clanging against the side of the house, they're 10 times louder than the woodpecker ever was, the fucking bird still shows up when there's no wind to blow the tins around, and I'm downstairs sleeping on the motherfucking couch. You win, bird. I give the fuck up.
See, it has been kinda stormy lately, so the wind has really been slamming those pie tins against the siding. Personally, I think everyone in the fucking neighborhood can hear them and they're all ready to wring my scrawny neck, but the Old Lady disagrees and/or doesn't care and so this FUCKING BIRD HAS US ARGUING ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT TO REMOVE THE ALUMINUM PIE PLATES THAT ARE NAILED TO THE SIDE OF THE GODDAMN HOUSE!!!!
Apparently, tonight, she won. That's why I've decided to sleep on the couch. I'd wear earplugs like she does, but I can't because then all I can hear is my heart pounding, and then I start focusing on my heart and then I hear weird murmurs and pops and clicks, and then I start focusing on my breathing and I start fucking that up and, well, I can't wear fucking earplugs, okay?!
This goddamn flying rat is killing me. That's it -- I'm ordering the wrist-rocket tonight. And a shitload of b.b.'s. I don't care that it's illegal to kill birds protected under the Federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act! Bring on the fines, mofos. You know what? Send me to prison -- I don't give a shit. Maybe I'd get a good night's sleep in the big house. Although there are other peckers to contend with there so... yeah... I'll just pay the fine, thank you very much.
Who's the asshole who convinced me to buy a goddamn house?! Whoever it was is gonna get a b.b. in the ass.