Two baby birds were screaming bloody murder from their nest high up in the tree. It was a mess, embryonic goo and eggshells all over the place. It smelled pretty funky too, dried twigs and bird droppings. One unhatched egg sat between them. [SAD STORY, SPOILER ALERT: That egg is never going to hatch, which is sad. It could’ve been the bird that saved humanity as we know it.]
Why the hell were they crying like that? No one will ever know for sure, but odds are they were hungry without even understanding the concept, what with their stupid tiny pea brains.
Of course, all the commotion caught the wily ear of a wolf. I don’t have to tell you this, but wolves are no-good, opportunistic, conniving, litigious, salivating, always salivating, welfare mooching, sexual harassing, ketchup on hot dog condimenting ass jagoffs.
Let me share a story with you, once I trusted a wolf with my Porsche and wife. Now I am the father of an eight-year-old wolf boy of sorts and I drive a no-frills Nissan Versa sedan. Long story short, the only good wolf is a dying wolf, so you can mock it as it gasps its last gasp.
The wolf cried up to the baby birds to no avail. There was no shared language, so the wolf took it upon himself to scale the tree to get a better look. By better look, I mean attend to the birdlets like an obese French food enthusiast better looks a plateful of escargot.
Mother bird watched all the events transpire from a telephone wire. She was both furious and pissed, and it was evident as she swooped down, flying beak straight into the eye of the wolf. She twisted her neck and plucked out eye and a good tablespoon of brain matter. The wolf convulsed before falling out of the tree.
MORAL: You’ve got to fight for your right to party.