Those Sad Yard Birds – Curse #2990

Posted on August 25, 2011

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Because the crows were dying of depression I had to hire a scarecrow. For the first few weeks he worked out really well. He was doing a service by providing the crows with meaning in life. This made them happy and so their dead bodies weren’t all around my yard. The only problem was that beers soon began to go missing and cigarette butts began to litter the yard. Money began disappearing from my wallet, a dollar here and a ten dollar bill there. Mrs. Coshire reported that the scarecrow was whistling at her and licking his lips. Mr. Coshire reported that the scarecrow had given him a black eye and flicked him the finger when he rushed to his wife’s aid.  They brought the authorities in and the police took the scarecrow away. I tried to get him back. He’s a great scarecrow, I told the police. He’s not a scarecrow, they said. He’s a mannequin escaped from a Nordstroms.  I felt cheated on. What is going to happen to him, I asked. He attacked a man, they said. We’re going to have to put him down. And that’s how the birds began to die in my yard again and again and again. Existentialism was a deadly disease to be sure.

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Posted in: Year 1: Curse