R.I.P. Mr. Tweet Tweet, just not on my car

To anyone who saw me dancing around the dead bird in the parking lot earlier today, I just want to explain. Here's why:

So this morning we’re sitting at breakfast when mine and my husband's phones both ding at the same time and we look and our neighbor sent us a picture of the top of our car. Ruh-roh, there’s a big dead bird on it. Like he’s HUGE and he’s lying there with his feet sticking straight up in the air.

HUBBY: Oh noooo, how am I going to get that off?

I mean, seriously? How is it possible that I have more balls than someone who actually has balls?

ME: No problemo. You hold a bag and I’ll just knock the dead bird into the bag with a shovel or something.

I say it like it’s no big deal, even though I’ve clearly claimed the better role of knocking it off and he has the shitty role of catching it and not letting any nasty feathers touch him. Ewwwwwww.

Anyways, as we’re sitting there finishing breakfast I think of  another way to handle it.

ME: Wait, forget the bag and shovel, I have a better idea.

So after breakfast, I strap Zoey into her car seat and make sure her seatbelt is on tight and I back out of the driveway reeeeeeeeeeeallllllllly sllllllllowwwwwwlyyyyyyy, so the bird won’t fall off in our driveway and my wussy husband won’t have to deal with it. And then I drive down the street and when we hit the first corner, I FLOOR it.

ZOEY: Wheeeeeeee!!!

And I hear a thud. Awesome, I did it!

So we get to where we’re going and I get out and awwwwww shit. This is what I find.


Whoopsies. Mr. Tweet Tweet has wedged himself in so he's not coming off. Okay, this could be a problem. I can only imagine what my husband is going to say when I get home and this is the new situation.

HUSBAND: Nuh-uhhh. You said you were taking care of it. This is not my problem anymore.

So we get in the car again, and this time I’m not F’ing around. I step on the gas and swerve and zig-zag and do donuts at like 60 mph around the parking lot.


And yes, yes it is. Because guess what I see out my rearview mirror. A big ass dead bird rolling across the parking lot. Waaa-hooooooo!!!! And this time I’ve learned my lesson so I pull back around, put the car in park and jump out to make sure it worked. Hells yeah!! At this point I do a little touchdown dance in the parking lot next to the dead bird.


Looking back, I am not proud of my behavior but Zoey is. She thinks this whole mission KICKS ASS, which leads me to believe that either A. She doesn't understand or B. She's a future serial killer who will go through a short phase of killing small animals before she starts killing humans.

So there you go. I didn't have to touch the dead bird and neither did my husband, hence the touchdown dance you might have seen in the parking lot.

The End

P.S. It really is very sad that we lost a feathery friend today. Sorry, I forgot to mention that. Goodbye Mr. Tweet Tweet.

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