Ever since I glued thumbtacks on the lawn swings we have had bird-poopless lawn swings. It has been nice. Until today. On each lawn swing was a random bird dropping. Not where they would have stood on the bar, singing and having a moment. No, in a random place. Here's how I think it happened.
Bird one--The Culprit: Ouch, ouch, ouch.
Bird two: Whaa's the mattah? (He's a New York bird, blown off course by a nasty freak wind. Maybe he's from the Bronx or maybe he's even from Yonkers. I love that name. Yonkers. It just kind of plonks off the tongue. Yonkers.)
The Culprit: My feet hurt. I flew down to my favorite bathroom spot and now my feet hurt and I didn't even have time to....
New Yorker: Ah, ya fool. Ya've been thumtacked.
The Culprit: Thuntacked, what does that mean?
New Yorker: It means "keep off" in human language. They are a naughty species and probably think it's funny to see ya hopping around, holding yer foot up fer inspection..
The Culprit: Well, I'll be. What a mean thing to do.
New Yorker: We'll get revenge. Here's what we'll do.
Then New Yorker proceeds to whisper into The Culprit's ear and soon The Culpret is making a pass over the lawn swings and we hear New Yorker yelling, "Bombs away!" and that is how the lawn swings happen to have bird poop in random places.
The Culprit: How's that?
New Yorker: Perfect! Tomorrow we'll fly off and get Zelzee's car. Her regulars are gettin' tired and I told them we'd bring in fresh ammo.