Upon returning home from New York at 7am last wednesday, I should have been delighted to note that there had been no slug incursions in my absence, thereby proving my counter-measures to be wholly successful. If I'd really meant business, I would have coined a catchphrase, such as "slug free since 08/03". But alas, there had been an even more determined intruder than the pernicious garden slug.
When I forced my way past the pile of exciting mail (including: tax disc! Undelivered item notice! Pizza menu!) I witnessed a scene of devestation roughly equivalent to that following a middle-range earthquake. Pictures askew. Unexplained dirt everywhere (the kind that houses hide). Lampshade at a jaunty angle. This can only mean one thing, namely that a bird has flown down the chimney and commited acts of terror on my home.
Now, I don't know about you, but my first thought upon getting into trouble is not to defecate everywhere. That seems to me to be compounding the problem. Not so Mr Bird, who had spattered every available surface with yesterday's brunch. So now, when all my shaking body wanted to do was sleep, I had to try to find this miscreant in my home. The thought of going to sleep only to be awoken by talons raking my face (inevitable, I figured) did not appeal. After two hours of spirited effluvia removal, I gave up and collapsed.
(A note: OF COURSE I cleaned my house before I went away. So that burglars would not think the worst of me).
Later on, i found its sad little body behind a curtain in the spare room. I suppose a true blogger would have taken a photo of this, put it at the top of the post, and reminded us all of the pathos of life and death. Wheels within wheels. I just shoved the (thankfully cohesive) corpse into a shoebox and threw it in the bin. All the while, obviously, praying it would not come back to life in a damaged, screaming way. I don't mind admitting that I poked it with a stick a few times first.
Thank goodness for sticks. Thank goodness for shoeboxes! Thank goodness for Cif cream cleaner. Thank goodness.
My comics: Bad Machinery - Scary Go Round - Giant Days :: My Shop :: My Flickr Sketchblog :: My Last.fm
10 comments:
You're damn right to leave a clean house for any guests that may come by, invited or otherwise.
Once again, though, this speaks to a common Allison theme: nature's backlash in the British Isles is frightening in its power to annoy.
I once had a dried up fighting fish spontaneously reanimate as I was trying to dispose of the body (he had tried to leap out of the bowl to freedom when I wasn't home). It was freaky and upsetting--an emotional rollercoaster. A short one. Your concerns were justified.
I find it sad that the bird didn't make it out, though. The poor little thing.
I can only imagine the smell your home must have had after spending days covered in bird excrement.
It was odourless. After all, it's only berries and bugs.
But berries still smell dont they? I suppose, though, after it dries...
Back when I was a feckless teenager in a squalid room, I somewhat maintained a smallish (20 gal) aquarium as a hobby. Every once in a while a fish would disappear, but i never really paid it any mind since it usually just indicated Darwin's presence among the natives.
One day however, after constant urging from the parental units, I was forced to tidy up. And lo and behold, tucked beneath a pile of strewn shirts was one of my aquatic critters, dried and cemented to the rug in a grotesque neo-cubist way.
Up until the re-carpeting years later, my former room had a little bald patch where I had to cut him off the floor.
Yes! This is why fish make terrible pets. If you think they won't ruin the carpet like fluffy nice pets, you would be incorrect.
Hi John,
Don't know if you remember me, I was the girl sitting next to you in the dead corner of the London Thing in April. I draw GothBoy, and several other less popular things.
I just caught up with Scary Go Round again. :( I hate catching up with my webcomics. It means I have to wait for more. It was a good read though.
I very much enjoyed the election storyline. Also, it's interesting you've chosen to draw on paper now. I think I can understand why, I love drawing on paper too.
Anyway, just wanted to say hi, hope your avian homewrecker rests in peace. (I had dry, crusty fish once. They're still better than chunky fish flakes shooting out of the filterpump for your aquarium. Talk about Wes Craven moments!)
that or your home was chosen for a small scale recreation of the eagle part of "long dark teatime of the soul" by douglas adams
you didn't see any bearded men with small hammers walking round did you?
sttreetlights dimming slightly as you went past?
Oddly enough I just (right now!) had my very own dead bird encounter. See I went in to have a quick pee, opened the pottie lid, and much to my displeasure found a dead bird floating in the bowl.
I can't quite figure out the chain of events that led to this, but I'm fairly sure my cat had something to do with it. There were unfortunate signs of much birdly splashing from said enclosed bowl. Fortunately with a cat, one usually acquires a litter box scooper, so I was well equipped for the removal of my little dead friend. Don't wanna clog up the pipes with anything like that.
Love the comic, thanks for the giggles.
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