I was outside, thinking maybe I needed to get moving to jumpstart this hazy day. The neighbor was picking up still serviceable butts off the ground as his little shit machine did its job while glaring at me. He smiled and offered me a drag off the crooked Kool 100 someone had wasted half of. I didn’t know if it was him, me or the dog that smelled like hot shit, stale piss and a bottle of Thunderbird. The sun was already pounding the earth like a desperate dude with fresh dick pics on messenger.
“It’s that one,” he said pointing up the tree at a little brown bird.
I scrunched up my face and took a drag off that Kool. “What about him?”
“He fucking hates me,” he replied.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I passed the smoke back and got into my car with a wave. When he turned around I saw a long white streak of bird shit down the back of his Joe Cool t-shirt. I swear that bird looked right at me and winked.
Maybe we need a secondary plague. Just to be safe.