(no subject)
I'd been out to the movies the night before, and knew the rough whereabouts I'd seen the over-sized Tweety-Bird laying broken in the snow, by the edge of the highway. I hadn't the time, nor the equipment to take a polaroid at that moment, so planned to come back later. The next night, I found myself driving a couple of kilometers back and forth looking for any sight of yellow fuzz. I think I travelled that section of highway for close to 45 minutes; search, u-turn, search, u-turn, search, etc.
You see, shortly after spotting Tweety mangled on the side of the road the previous night, we'd had a terrific winter storm; howling winds, considerable snowfall. This made the search difficult, as the wind and snowplows had evidently moved Tweety several hundred meters from where I'd seen him. Regardless, dogged determination prevailed and I eventually spotted a scrap of tortured fuzz, there beneath a sodium-halide light, the glow of which illuminated Tweety in a decidedly unyellow manner.
His resting place beside the highway didn't shout 'photo-op'... sodium lighting, careening traffic. So I decided to move him somewhere more suitable; beneath one of my favourite bridges in an industrial part of town. It was quite dark under this bridge, and I could better control any lighting for a photo.
So, by this time it's fairly late, probably one-thirty o'clock. The winter wind is quite blasting, and it's approximately fucking cold. I drive beneath the silent bridge, tires crunching into the frozen gravel, and park. I get out and wander around, looking for somewhere to lay Tweety for a suitable pose. Ah, there beside a frozen puddle.
I return to the car and open it up, grabbing Tweety by an arm. All sorts of white foamy stuffing spills out of his tattered form, so I instead decide to gently scoop him up with both arms.. to avoid spillage you see. Now at this point I become utterly, irreversibly creeped out. There beneath an unlit bridge in the middle of the night, scooping a small mangled form from my vehicle. I nervously peered through the darkness to see if anyone was there to misinterpret this strange tableau, and laid Tweety on the cold hard ground.
Tweety looked good there splayed out on the ice. Some beads of stuffing had spilled about, hinting at carnage. And his remaining eye gazed soulless at the underside of the bridge.
I proceeded to try various methods of illumination, using a small flashlight, and occasionally looked about for witnesses. After half a freezing hour of this tomfoolery, I decided we had a winner. I had a polaroid of a broken Tweety Bird, and a feeling of creeping dread and horror that I still remember clearly as a bad smell.
You see, shortly after spotting Tweety mangled on the side of the road the previous night, we'd had a terrific winter storm; howling winds, considerable snowfall. This made the search difficult, as the wind and snowplows had evidently moved Tweety several hundred meters from where I'd seen him. Regardless, dogged determination prevailed and I eventually spotted a scrap of tortured fuzz, there beneath a sodium-halide light, the glow of which illuminated Tweety in a decidedly unyellow manner.
His resting place beside the highway didn't shout 'photo-op'... sodium lighting, careening traffic. So I decided to move him somewhere more suitable; beneath one of my favourite bridges in an industrial part of town. It was quite dark under this bridge, and I could better control any lighting for a photo.
So, by this time it's fairly late, probably one-thirty o'clock. The winter wind is quite blasting, and it's approximately fucking cold. I drive beneath the silent bridge, tires crunching into the frozen gravel, and park. I get out and wander around, looking for somewhere to lay Tweety for a suitable pose. Ah, there beside a frozen puddle.
I return to the car and open it up, grabbing Tweety by an arm. All sorts of white foamy stuffing spills out of his tattered form, so I instead decide to gently scoop him up with both arms.. to avoid spillage you see. Now at this point I become utterly, irreversibly creeped out. There beneath an unlit bridge in the middle of the night, scooping a small mangled form from my vehicle. I nervously peered through the darkness to see if anyone was there to misinterpret this strange tableau, and laid Tweety on the cold hard ground.
Tweety looked good there splayed out on the ice. Some beads of stuffing had spilled about, hinting at carnage. And his remaining eye gazed soulless at the underside of the bridge.
I proceeded to try various methods of illumination, using a small flashlight, and occasionally looked about for witnesses. After half a freezing hour of this tomfoolery, I decided we had a winner. I had a polaroid of a broken Tweety Bird, and a feeling of creeping dread and horror that I still remember clearly as a bad smell.