Let me get what I want
For those who have always wondered, walking around town in a black t-shirt proclaiming "THREATENER" in bold white lettering while at the same time being a 5"2 female is bound to attract (threatened and thus intimidated) gawkers.
The other day I was driving over to my brother's house and I saw a bird get hit mid-flight by a station wagon. I looked in my rear view mirror to see said bird lying in the middle of the road, flapping wildly. I continued to watch it and then felt really bad, because I am a friend of birds, and so I turned around and pulled over, stopping traffic with my imposing fist and scooping the tiny bird up with the other hand. Initially I was going to set the bird down near a tree on the side of the road so as to avoid being smushed by an Ann Arbor Mom (annarbormom.com) in a Lexus SUV listening to Celine Dion and being moved (emotionally) to the point of no longer being able to focus on that which lies ahead (bird friend).
But I looked at Bird, and Bird was not doing well. I decided I would take Bird into my car and make some phone calls about where to take birds that were nearly smushed but not quite. As I started to drive and dial I looked over at Bird, who I now noticed had a ripe gash on the side of his Bird head. He twitched, and took shallow Bird breaths. I patted his little chest with my index and middle finger, so as to say, "Come on, Bird." But within moments, Bird's eyes were filling with red, and his breaths were further apart. Finally, Bird stopped breathing all together, and his head fell loosely to the side. Bird was dead.
So I took Bird to a little tree behind my brother's house, and set him down, and made it so that his neck was not so crooked, and patted his chest again, so as to say goodbye, or something.
Just a day in the life of a threatener.
The other day I was driving over to my brother's house and I saw a bird get hit mid-flight by a station wagon. I looked in my rear view mirror to see said bird lying in the middle of the road, flapping wildly. I continued to watch it and then felt really bad, because I am a friend of birds, and so I turned around and pulled over, stopping traffic with my imposing fist and scooping the tiny bird up with the other hand. Initially I was going to set the bird down near a tree on the side of the road so as to avoid being smushed by an Ann Arbor Mom (annarbormom.com) in a Lexus SUV listening to Celine Dion and being moved (emotionally) to the point of no longer being able to focus on that which lies ahead (bird friend).
But I looked at Bird, and Bird was not doing well. I decided I would take Bird into my car and make some phone calls about where to take birds that were nearly smushed but not quite. As I started to drive and dial I looked over at Bird, who I now noticed had a ripe gash on the side of his Bird head. He twitched, and took shallow Bird breaths. I patted his little chest with my index and middle finger, so as to say, "Come on, Bird." But within moments, Bird's eyes were filling with red, and his breaths were further apart. Finally, Bird stopped breathing all together, and his head fell loosely to the side. Bird was dead.
So I took Bird to a little tree behind my brother's house, and set him down, and made it so that his neck was not so crooked, and patted his chest again, so as to say goodbye, or something.
Just a day in the life of a threatener.