#chatswithstrangers #chatswithpeople #3
I come home to find a pigeon nestled in the crook of my door jamb. I shout. Make shooing noises. Thump the door. Sprinkle a little water on it.
It doesn’t budge.
I’m terrified it’s going to fly at my face. So I scurry out. And seek out the security guard.
Me: achcha sorry but there’s a bird outside my door. Can you please get your stick and broom and gently shove it out or away?
Guard: a bird? What kind of bird?
Me: a pigeon.
Guard: what colour?
Me: (nonplussed) um, grey.
Guard: oh. (Silence)
Me: (staring at guard) um. So….
Guard: is it dead?
Me: no.
Guard: is it lying down?
Me: no.
Guard: is it asleep?
Me: (I’m going to attack this man with his own broom) look. I don’t know. Just come get it out.
Guard: is it ill?
Me: how should I know?? I didn’t take its temperature. Just get your broom.
The homicidal pigeon flew at him. And then away. And sat and mocked us from a staircase.
Guard: is he your pigeon?
Me: (words fail me) I’m going inside now. Thank you for your help.
Guard: he looks sick.
Me: (shutting the door with a wave)


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