Dear Mr Pigeon

Dear Mr Pigeon,

Coo.

But I don't think that's the sound you make. It's something like an asthma patient having problem while breathing: Ghmmmm ghmmm! You make me wanna hurl a stone at you, Mr Pigeon. But then I resist myself cuz you are dumb enough to stand there still humming like a freaking fool.

It tears my nerves when you try to stuff yourself through our kitchen window and flutter around the clutter flapping your wings with the even more irritating phat-phat-phat-phat noise. Aarrrgghhhh!!! Can't you see that there's a fan switched on? Who will clean up the mess if your... forget it! There's nothing in anybody's home that you can pluck and fly away. No strategic positions to build your nest either, OK? Any let's face it dude, you are not as adventurous, brisk or macho like the crows to swoop away with something. And speaking of crows, look how smartly they perch themselves at the windows waiting for food. And if I shoo them away, they immediately take off but don't have any ego hassles coming back to see if still we have any edible scrap for them. Suave!

And what's with the habit of cocking head and revolving around yourself? Vous-etes retardé? Or is your memory so short that you just forget what things are around you by the time you look in another direction? You can't even strut about without cocking your head damn it! And I would also like to request you not to have those idiotic wing brawls with other dimwits of your species because that's just so gay! There is no display of any avine barbarism, you know, like the cool falcons; you just hustle, bustle and jostle with each other and finally fall off from wherever you are struggling in what seems like lovers in embrace.

So Mr Pigeon, I just hope your species gets extinct (like the dodo's did because of lack of brains) or you could get allergic to the global warming and try to fly over the ocean and then just drop into it, exhausted, after finding out there's no place to land! I still can't figure out how you pulled off the mail-delivering coup in the olden days.

Anyway, I hate you, pea-brain!

Love,
The Blithering Idiot.