The Ravens.

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Thus, ends the poem, "The Raven" by one of my all-time favorite poets, Edge Allan Poe. Like the tormented man in the story, there is a raven outside my chamber door. Well, not a raven, but a grackle--scratch that--grackles with babies. They are a smaller but just as noisy a cousin to the ravens and crows. Their song is not pretty -- it's a nerve-popping rusty gate sound. They weren't meant to have a pretty tune to sing because they are demons from hell who wreak havoc upon the damned. Perhaps you, too, have been the unfortunate soul to have been cursed by the cantankerous grackle. But, it's too late for us--they have descended upon our home like a plague that chokes the sanity out from every brain cell.

Maybe that's why a flock of grackles are called a plague--seriously, that's what they're called!! And a flock of crows is a murder. No, seriously!! Would I lie when it comes to plagues and murders!!! I don't joke around with pestilence and homicide.

My mind is beginning to fray like an old, dusty rope; as my sanity is in the gnarled crawls of those ruthless, relentless, torturous bastards!! And, so, even now, as I type this out, I am plagued by their mayhem, with that raspy cry that sounds like mocking laughter. It's a cry that can make blood run from the ears of the mentally strongest of men and women. This is a pattern repeated several times in an hour, all fucking day long!!!! I can't even turn up the t.v. loud enough to drowned out their hellish calls to Satan.

Wow!! I began writing this post on the 17th and here it is 4 days later yet the baby grackle sticks around like that kid in The Omen. It's been weeks!! I think three weeks now!! On Saturday, that damn bird was already squawking when I woke up at 9am and went non-stop until 8 at night; and that only stopped the little shit because the sun went down. I considered blasting a shotgun into that pine tree and dancing on the black feathers that billowed forth out the other side. But, my inner Buddhist, vegetarian conscience and condo association contract kept be from carrying-out that tempting rampage.

Oh, yeah, and the mandatory mental health screening to buy firearms might of had something to do with it. And, if I'm any kind of expert on insanity, I'd have to admit that the theory, which says killing animals is the first sign one is auditioning to take Hannibal Lector's place, factored into it, as well. Not to mention the shit storm from the animal rights activists I get!! Which would be fun to watch because I am an animal activist myself; so I'd have to kick my own ass--Tylor Durden style!! But, if you hear about some crazy guy in Colorado shooting birds, you'll know it's me. Oo, but make sure and watch my "tell-all" interview from prison afterwards with Chris Hanson (you know, the guy from those "sting" reality shows for Dateline NBC who always introduces himself to the person caught as, "I'm Chris Hanson...with Dateline NBC."

-hbw