Our house has a mockingbird problem. I want to kill this mockingbird.
Harper Lee may have already written this book. But let me tell you that a lobotomy will never do. It is not severe enough.
The only acceptable punishment for being a mockingbird is death.
See, the mockingbird who calls our yard home, is a party animal.
This dude likes to start his singing at about midnight and rock that party until the break of dawn.
And his party is loud. Like 100+ decibels loud. So loud it will wake you up from a dead slumber and keep you awake for hours, thinking of all the ways you could kill him.
- A dart would be fun. Not a pretty one, either. Like a dart which a child played with in the 1950s and I would buy from a garage sale. Dull and rusty would do the trick.
- Since our mockingbird hangs out at the top of the tree, I’ve actually plotted tossing our cat up there. She would certainly kill him. But would need a surprise attack. Like a catapult. Or trebuchet. I would take great pleasure in both the flinging of our cat gently onto his roost… and watching her kill this loud monster.
- Like the Lorax, I have thought that I could rid myself of this problem by cutting down anything taller than 2 feet.
- Craigslist. Surely, if I put an ad on Craigslist, someone will have a female making noise in their yard. Forget eHarmony, she’s a perfect fit.
- I’m looking for a mockingbird recipe. Now I know why all of the recipes for Mockingbirds also involve the word “tequila.” If you have one in your backyard the only way to sleep is to drink oneself blind and pull your sombrero over your head.
- Perhaps this is a business idea? I could buy an island. Then hire a band of bird wranglers, led by Jack Colton from Romancing the Stone, who would rid our nation of these noisy pests for a fee. We would release them on the island to sing and mate to their hearts content. I could probably even sell the idea to Animal Planet for a reality show. Mockingbird Island: From Pest to Profit.
Moving is not an option. This bird would merely follow us. It’s there to mock us. We lay in bed at night searching our souls. We wonder, what have we done to deserve the mockingbirds presence?
The bird, and its incessant intolerable noise, must die.
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