The Angry Bird

The attack was entirely unprovoked.  I was an innocent victim.  Simply walking from my car to the theatre. 

I had heard talk of Malificent the Attack Mockingbird, but had never personally experienced her violence. 
 

Unlike Voldemort, that infamous pigeon who attacked me head-on in a restaurant in London ( Attack Pigeon ), Mallificent was stealthy.  She mugged me from behind, viciously bombarding my back with her wrathful wings.

OK, it didn’t hurt that bad, but it scared the stink out of me.  Visions of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds went through my head.  I assumed the Tippi Hendron pose and began screaming.

Like a girl.

And I heard Malificent laughing.  

Cackling.  

The bitch.

I'm not proud of my reaction.  But I don't like birds in my personal space.

The problem is that I have to walk down that sidewalk to get to rehearsal.  Right past Malificent.

Being bullied by a bird is humiliating.  And I’m not gonna take it anymore.  

I must channel my inner Godfather.  My own personal Don Corleone.

I will make Malificent "an offer she can't refuse."  

"Listen up you Bullying Bird.  You Fascicle of Feathers. Either you leave me the hell alone or you're going to end up on plate with celery and bleu cheese dressing!"  

"And when I'm finished with you, you're gonna look remarkably like my Buffalo Chicken Wing Hat."

And if Malificent has any brains in that evil head of hers, she will tuck her tail feathers between her scrawny legs start treating me a with a little respect.  

I really hope I don't have to resort to Plan B.  Plan B is messy.  But if I have to leave a horse head in her nest I will.  

 

And if that doesn't work?

Well, the theatre does have a back door.