||[Aug. 28th, 2004|04:29 pm]
One morning I woke up and found my favorite pigeon, Gerald, had died. I was devastated and was gonna use his crate as my stickball bat to honor him. I left the crate on my stoop and went in to get something and I returned to see the sanitation man put the crate into the crusher. I rushed him and caught him flush on the temple with a titanic right hand and he was out, convulsing on the floor like a infantile retard.