My Day Off

Sunday, 4 p.m.
Still raining. Raining all day. Rain rain rain.
Q: So, are you ready to start drinking? And watch another movie?
Monk: Sure!

This is where I should warn you kiddos that pouring hard liquor INTO your beer before drinking it probably indicates consuming said beer with at least a small measure of caution. Certainly not quickly and thirstily and soon-to-be-wasted-ly.

Sunday, 5:20 p.m.

Monk (hurrying back into the kitchen from the backyard): There’s a baby bird out in the grass, don’t let the dogs out. It’s not moving.
Q (not usually a bird sympathizer, yet after a few strong drinks cannot help but become wringing-of-the-hands sympathetic to the baby bird’s flight. Emphasis on “pathetic”): Oh god, oh no, is it dead? (thinking please don’t ask me to help clean it up. Pleeease don’t ask me. I don’t want to have to get the shovel.)
Monk (URGENTLY!): No, but it can’t fly and it needs to get out of the yard.

Sunday, 5:30 p.m.
Monk mentally prepares himself to save the day and (Drunken) Operation Baby Bird Rescue is underway. This involves putting on heavy work gloves, a semi-threatening waddle-like chase of the baby bird, and a lot of shooing gestures.

Also (apparently) involves yelling at his wife to “Cover me! COVER ME!!!” I don’t know, in case the mama bird comes screeching and careening out of the neighbor’s tree in a terrifying, dive-bomb type of maneuver, just pulling up at the last possible moment to latch onto the bridge of his nose with her tiny bird claws and go all Woody Woodpecker apeshit-crazy on his eyeballs with her pointy little beak???

Sunday, 5:35 p.m.
Perhaps you kiddos should also be informed that a good buzz + an over-dramatic spouse yelling shit like “COVER ME!” while lumbering after a baby bird in the backyard = uncontrollable laughing fit = buzzed bird whisperer spouse becoming a leeeetle bit angry at laughing hyena woman taking pictures with her camera = more yelling = laughter turning into pouting because when we drink we like to take things personally…

It’s all okay. I know you were worried there for a minute. Monk and I worked it out without needing any couples' counseling (I ask you, how can a person stay angry when there is more rum to consume and a Sponge Bob cookie to distract her?), the baby bird is (presumably) okay, the Chinese food came quickly, and only one of the three movies viewed sucked royally.

Hope everyone else’s Father’s Day was just as drama-filled and delinquent as ours. But that maybe you were spared the one sucky movie.

2 comment:

Blogger That Nervous Girl said...

The bird's like: "My day off? I just screwed with some sympathetic drunk-asses for a while. Oh yeah, totally had them going... it was pretty sweet."

3:32 PM  
Anonymous skyhawk said...

I gotta agree with TNG... that bird definitely has an "I am soooo messing with you guys" look to it...

P.S. Photoshop a Santa's cap on the SquareBob cookie above, and I think you've found your Christmas card for this year (if not, may I steal the idea?)

5:12 PM  

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