The tale of the broken bird and the “cramping” girl

This morning I found out where the Durban and Coast SPCA is, and wiped shit off my car seat with a pink Barbie towel.

My brother said I should’ve pulled the rest of the feathers out, basted it in peri-peri and shoved it in the oven.

Looks like chicken. Tastes like beef.

As I was leaving home this morning, a little girl of 8 or 10 came up to me with a Hadeda ( wrapped in a bright pink Barbie towel under her arm and asked me to dial the SPCA.

Just as I had finished telling the SPCA where to come and get the bird, the girl suddenly said “Oooh! Ooh! Ow! My stomach! Please sir, take it from me.” So I did, fearing the worst but suspecting the inevitable, and with that, she sped off, never to be seen again.

So there I was, sitting alone in my car holding a big ass bird wrapped in a towel.

Gingerly, I plonked it in the passenger footwell, praying it would not freak and went to find the SPCA. There, I filled in the form, went back to the car to get the poor, broken bird… and… it would not comply.

So I went round to driver side to get it and it shat on my seat the jumped out and ran under the decking at the coffee shop (“Coffee Cats”) with a party of about 10 animal lovers and employees trying to “rescue” the forsaken animal. I say “rescue” because some of the methods of capture they were discussing were downright concerning.

Anyway, so life must go on and that involves driving, which is not great when you have a massive, liquid bird-turd on your seat. So, I dipped said Barbie towel into the fishpond, wiped my seat off and continued my day as normal.

Except now everyone wants to know why I have a cute pink Barbie towel at work with me.

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