The Birds of The Air Hate Me

So I’m guarding the rummage at our church rummage sale and I’m getting really bored from all the people asking me questions about how much things cost, so I pull out my guitar (pronounced geetar) and play a few songs. I’m in the middle of jamming to “Satellite” by Guster when I feel something graze my left-leg hair and I hear this thwack. I look down and bird crap missed me by inches and landed on my guitar case. The birds’ stupid songs wake me up every morning and I don’t try to crap on them.

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