Why me? I’m so good to all things avian, why did you shite all over my car? Is there something I did to offend your kind? You know, a few weeks ago, as I was enjoying the final few bits of my spaghetti while sitting in the cockpit of my boat, a single seagull came and sat in the water, waiting and hoping that I’d give him a small little morsel. I looked around and made sure he really was alone, and then, seeing as how he was so patient, decided to give him some noodles. I tossed him everything that remained on my plate, and he gobbled down what he could catch. Wasn’t that nice of me? Can you imagine what would’ve happened if that lone gull had called to his buddies that dinner was served? Chaos, that’s what. Poo everywhere.

And yet, weeks later, at least seven of you decided to use the windshield and hood of my car as a munitions dump. It’s like you were carrying out some deadly sentence for a crime I’d committed in this life or the previous. I don’t understand.

Was it the cuteness of my car that offended you? I understand it’s adorable, even filthy dirty, so is that why you had to defame it with your nastiness? You thought it was too darling of a car, and that I needed to be taken down a few pegs? Had my ego gotten out of control again, and the Big Guy Upstairs sent you down to drop your acidic white and yellow bombs all over my hot rod? Really?

Or was it just amusement? Part of me thinks the flock of you were just bored out of your little bird brains and you thought, hey, let’s have a contest! Yeah! Whoever can drop a terd into her cracked driver’s side window wins! Yeeeeah! Let’s do it!!!

And so the pooing commenced. The first of you dropped a bomb on the windshield, probably dead center. The second fluffed you aside with his feathers and tried for the open window and hit the hood. SPLAT! So much fun! You all took turns, my cute car the scene of shite mayhem. You had to account for the slight breeze whisking away your droppings, and it took several attempts to finally hit the target. Then one of you managed to fire the perfect little, warm, drippy feces right through my window and onto my car seat. SCORE!!!

Oh man, what fun. You all squawked your congratulations to the crappy winner and, needing to refuel for game two, went in search of tasty garbage and some unsuspecting clams. It was during halftime that I found my poor car, defiled with massive poops. Naturally I wasn’t alone, and a friend of mine couldn’t help but laugh and suggest I take a picture. But why would I want to remember such a horrible incident? I had to grab a wad of paper towels, wet them, then wipe/scrape your now crusty craps off my hood, windshield, and seat. I won’t describe for you the color of the paper towels after cleaning, because that would only make you happier.

What I will say is this: that was really uncalled for. It was mean, gross, and did not help your cause. We land-walkers think of you sky-dwellers as dirty, messy, noisy things, and what you did only hindered your progress. You simply fulfilled your stereotype, two steps back to your cause. I hope your day of fun was worth it. Some of your avian brothers are now hanging their feathered heads in shame. The hawks, eagles, and egrets all have their feathers in a ruffle over this scandal. I can only guess that you’re pigeons or seagulls, because an eagle wouldn’t dare partake in such a cheap past time.

Oh, and next time, when a gull comes over begging for a morsel of my meal, I’m going to just stick my tongue out and flip him the bird. No more treats for any of you!

Insincerely yours,

Courtney