Sunday, September 24, 2006

Blog readers are like hummingbirds

I have a hummingbird feeder up in my backyard, as I just love those crazed, cheeky fuckers. We get them year-round, here in So Cal.

Usually I keep it filled up, but our local Wal-Fuck is remodeling, and they do not have any hummingbird food mix out on the shelves. It is useless to ask a Wal-Fuck employee if they have any in the back, as Wal-Fuck employees never know anything. After years of shopping at Wal-Fuck, I am fairly sure that their employees are only paid for attendance, as I have never seen them working, and they certainly don't know jack shit about the place in which they work. This would probably be a brilliant job to have, if it didn't pay minimum wage, and you didn't have to put up with Wal-Fuck customers and your fellow employees. I suppose if you wanted a higher paying job where you don't have to know anything, and are useless to your customers, and wanted to work for a company that will soon own half the world, you could apply at Microsoft.

I know that you don't have to buy hummingbird food, you can make it yourself, but that involves work. You have to get distilled water, and boil it with the sugar, and so on. I don't take that much trouble to make dinner for my own family, and I'm certainly not doing it for the hummingbirds. I looked at my local grocery store for hummingbird food mix, and found some, and paid the outrageous price they were asking. Once you start feeding hummingbirds, you have to keep feeding them. If you don't, they will turn on you, with a vengeance.

When the hummingbird feeder first becomes empty, they will go to the window and politely let you know that their feeder is empty. They will make little chirping hummingbird noises, and then they will zoom off. The next day, if the feeder is still empty, they will hover at the window longer, and slag you off with indignant chirps. The third day, if the feeder is still empty, they will start hovering around you when you go outside, and carry on like a small, pissed-off bird version of R2-D2. The fourth day, if the feeder is still empty, they will dive bomb you, in a very serious fashion. They have sharp, needle-like beaks, and they will call their friends over, and they will all aim for your head, in an organized fashion that the Air Force would do well to use as a teaching tool for their fighter pilots. The fifth day, if you have not refilled that fucking feeder yet for those vicious, unappreciative shites, you do not go outside at all. You stay in, and let the wash pile up, and the grass die off, and hide your children, because it is not safe to go out.

The hummingbirds do not care if you have been feeding them for years, on a fairly regular basis. They do not care that, by the laws of nature, they are supposed to be tonguing flowers. They do not care that there are other feeders in the neighborhood, that they can visit while yours is empty. They want theirs, NOW. The minute you let them go a day without food, it all goes to shit. Their memory is wiped clean, and the years of work you have put in are worth nothing. You are shite. You are lower than shite; you are the slimy fungus that grows under a pile of shite.

But blessedly, as soon as you have refilled the feeder, all is forgiven. Even better is if you can refill the feeder with a stronger mix than you were using before. You will be a queen; the hummingbirds will chirp appreciatively at you, and bring their friends around, and they will make kind, chirpy remarks about your offspring, when you take your sprog outside to play.

All is good, at least until the next time your feeder runs dry.

Fat Sparrow

7 comments:

Old Knudsen said...

So a Hummingbird like a blog reader will leave cheeky comments all over yer head even when you do feed them? those twitchy hyper fuckers with their beady little eyes, and the birds are fuckers too.

Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

The teacher found a poor wee hummingbird floating in the fish-tank at pre-school the other week. Parents were then forced to explain to their wrinkle-browed little progeny the difficult issues of life and death and the tragedy of small wet feathers. And the concept of being bird-brained.

Fat Sparrow said...

Old Knudsen -- Well, you would know.

Sam -- It's best to slaughter small animals right in front of the little buggers, er, I mean "little darlings" at an early age. Less questions, that way.

Word Verif: owilmk = an Irish owl that can't spell

Monstee said...

Me and hatchling like to make game out of finding dead hummingbirds... or any dead thing for that matter.

Rule #1: Poke it with stick 3 times to make sure it am dead and not faking. (Rule added after baby skunk incident)

Rule #2: First one to get it down gullet, wins!

Fat Sparrow said...

You didn't care for Eau de Skunk, Monstee?

Also, you should watch out for just how dead that dead thing is, before poking it with a stick. Bloated dead bellies go "BOOM!" when poked. Almost as pleasant as Eau de Skunk, as an aroma essence. Interesting science lesson, though, for the Hatchling.

Kieran said...

Have a joke:

Spouse Sparrow arrived home and found Fat Sparrow was not in the nest.
Checking their eggs, he discovered one of them was definitely not
his. When Fat Sparrow came back, he pointed to the egg and said sternly,
"How come?" She gave him a sweet smile and replied, "Oh, I just did
that for a lark."

Fat Sparrow said...

Kieran -- You're supposed to make women moan, not groan.