Fritschie, killer of pigeons

On my way to a party last night, and there's no gentle way to put this, I hit three birds with my truck. In two separate incidents.

I was driving along, listening to happy swing music on the radio. I had just exited onto Route 66, where there were a few pigeons on the roadway picking at something. Two of them didn't get out of the way in time, and one hit the front edge of my hood and the other hit the windshield wiper (a couple of his feathers are still there).

I couldn't stop because of the traffic behind me. All I could do is turn down the radio and keep driving. I groaned, grumbled, and said "oh, God" a lot. You know, these things happen, and there's not a whole hell of a lot you can do about it other than feel bad.

However, then I turned onto the drive up to the house I was going to, and another frickin' pigeon flew right into my driver's side rear view mirror. Nothing gets you in the mood to party quite like suddenly being crowned the king of the pigeon killers.

It was so much of a bummer that it became laughable.