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Weekly Contest #352
December 18th, 2006 The birds are mocking me. They race overhead in an unorthodox pattern, squawking in a language they know im too feeble to understand. Incomprehensible heckles. It doesn’t irritate me the same way that chewing loudly on food or gulping water does. Those things are pure annoyance. The birds peeve me in a similar way as getting clearly made fun of in a different language does. You can never prove it, because you are not familiar with the vernacular, but you can hear it. The tone. The speed. The stares. They always stare....
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