The Hood

So I had to take one of my neighbor kids to the hospital today. I have to say please don't try this. I say this because 80% of the people who read this are at this very moment, or will suddenly find themselves more idiotic than a clown performing surgery. So seriously, don't try this. Honestly I can't afford to take everyone to the damn hospital. I'm certain the doctors would love it, and a brand new industry of hole patching could cause an economic boom, but just don't.

At any rate, the neighbor kids have been annoying myself and everyone else within a one block radius of their overpowered sound system with Angry Birds. You know what it is. If you don't then crawl out from under that rock in 1999 and join the rest of us in this depressed world where shooting pigs with birds is a fun night.

Anyway, because kids are kids, the steam from Angry Birds eventually dried up. At first it was sort of funny, watching them in the back yard. They started by throwing balloons with little pictures of birds on them at each other. Its all about escalation though. That very quickly graduated into real birds. You see we have quite an abundance of quail and pigeons here, and no one is too fond of them. When they first started they would run into the back yard with nets screaming, from two different directions trying to confuse the birds. Right away they caught a few quail that, quite honestly, didn't have a damn clue on what to do and just froze.

Then, the kids took turns playing the pigs, one of them would stand up on a stack of wood, and the other would throw half broken quail at them. I have to admit. I'm kinda morbid and I thought it was funny. At least I didn't have to listen to that damn theme song anymore.

Then it escalated again. Suddenly, birds were wizzing at my house, being shot from the end of a potato gun. Off in the faint distance, just before the splat of the bird on the back of my house I would hear "angry birds - da da!"

It was too much for me when the beak of a twisted and half featherless pigeon hit my ass. I mean its one thing to have a fresh clean bird smack into you, but another thing entirely for a recycled and mostly mangled pigeon to nail you.

Anyway, much to my pleasure that little phase didn't last long. You got it. Another escalation. They decided angry birds wasn't going to cut it anymore. So they started playing angry boards. You might ask, just what is an angry board. If you, like me you are morbid, you might just be able to guess. If not, I will fill you in. It involves jagged edges, nails, staples, and sticky crap stuck to the end.

I didn't get a proper introduction this game though. I just heard "angry board - da da," over my fence one day. Then I heard, "Kyle, are you okay? Kyle?"

I let it sit for a minute. Until they crying started. I walked back carefully over the landmine field of dead birds. I peeked over the fence, and there, laying crumpled on the floor was the younger of my little bastard neighbor kids. Now before you start accusing me of letting some terrible child abuse okay you should know he was fine. Just a little stunned, and covered in sticky crap. Oh, and with a hole in his shoulder, shaped suspiciously like a nail.

That it. The story doesn't really have a point. Well, maybe it does. Don't let your kids play Angry Birds. If you do they will end up impailing each other with sticky two by fours loaded with nails. Trust me.