Ugly birds. Ugly…dead birds.
Once again, the panopaly of “things what Goodwill sells” continues to absolutely boggle the mind. This poor little guy looks like the cat had a few words to say about him. Not kind words. Words like “How did you get in there,” and “can I get you out,” and “are you as edible as you look?” and “I guess not, but it’ll be fun to try anyway.”
The other possibility is that it’s electronic, and makes noise, LOTS of noise, and someone had quite enough thank you. Because it would take effort to work a little plastic toy over this badly.
On the other hand, if it really, really wanted to, it could escape, fly away, live a happy life in one of the rolled-up rugs in home furnishings. But it would have to make choices, sacrifices.
“We’re free. But…only one of us gots wings. That means that one of us gots to stay here. Otherwise, the volunteers will start asking questions, and start looking for us, and maybe they find the nest in home furnishings, and maybe they’ve got a better cage. So I’m asking you…telling you…that you got a home here. If the bottom drops off, come join me. You know where to find me. Under the big gray paisley deep pile on aisle 4.”
Up to a point, I kind of liked birds. Now, I’m not so sure. I didn’t buy him, I didn’t take him home with me, but I’ll still see him…every night. Oh yes.
Goodwill on 183 and Metric, which continues to amaze.