"Fucking crows."
I looked at my wristwatch.
6 fucking a.m.
And I have a bit of a hangover. Well, a lot of a hangover.
And I smell like stale smoke.
"Why are they so fucking loud," I sputtered, as I got out of bed.
I headed for the two glass doors that led to the outside veranda.
I swung them open.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
There were at least two dozen crows, sitting on the railing, surrounding the veranda.
They stopped cawing as soon as I opened the door, but they never moved.
They just stared at me.
Suddenly, I swear, they started laughing at me and I heard a voice say.
"Nice tighty whities, loser."
It was then I realized I was standing on my veranda, in my underwear.
"Bet that drives the chicks wild," another voiced cawed.
"Calvin? Harold?" I whispered, hoping the voices were from the two idiot ghosts I had met the day before.
"No Calvin or Harold here, nerd."
More laughing.
I swear those fucking crows were laughing at me.
First ghosts and now my new alarm clock was a bunch of wiseass crows.
"I'm losing my fucking mind," I stated.
I looked at the crows.
They were silent again.
I shook my head and turned to go back inside.
"Loser."
Laughter again.
I turned quickly and let out the loudest yell I could as I ran toward the crows.
They all tried to take to flight, but I managed to get hold of one by the throat.
He tried to claw at me and flapped his wings like crazy, but I simply grabbed his skinny little legs and carried him back inside to my bedroom.
The other crows were circling overhead, making ungodly like noises.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP."
Silence.
I kept hold of the one crow and closed the veranda doors.
"You ... are ... choking ... me ... ass ... hole."
Unbelievable.
"I hold your life in my hand and you still insult me?"
He looked up at me through eyes that were glazing over.
No matter what, I couldn't hurt an animal.
I loosened my hold on his neck.
Immediately, he pecked my hand.
"Fuck."
I let go and he flew away from me, landing on the top or the curtain rod, over the windows.
I looked at my hand. It was bleeding.
"Look what you did," I yelled, showing him my hand.
"You tried to choke me."
"If I wanted to choke you, I would have."
"Well you could have fooled me."
He shit on my curtains.
"Don't shit on my curtains," I screamed at him.
He flapped his wings cawing loudly.
"I am excited and when I get excited I shit. I am a fucking crow you know."
He shit again.
I looked around for something to throw at him.
There was a cushion at the end of the bed. I threw it toward him, but missed by several feet.
"You throw like a girl," he snickered.
I grabbed another cushion and let it fly, hitting him squarely.
A single feather floated to the floor as he sat on the curtain rod, stunned.
"You okay?"
He shook his head and flapped his wings.
"You really are an asshole. You could have killed me."
"It was a cushion, you wimp. If I wanted to kill you, I would have thrown a lamp."
The crow went silent.
"You really would have thrown a lamp at me?" he asked meekly.
I sat on the edge of the bed shaking my head.
"No, I would never hurt a living thing."
"Ha," the crow laughed.
"I knew you were a wimp."
My running shoes were on the floor next to my feet. I picked one up quickly and threw it at him. It hit him squarely and he fell to the floor.
He lay motionless.
"Shit."
I jumped from the bed and went to him.
He didn't seem to be breathing.
I knelt down by his side and poked him with my finger.
He didn't move.
I moved my head closer to his, to see if I could hear him breathe.
All I heard was, "Wimp," and a sharp pain in my head.
He flew back up to the curtain rod.
I put my hand to my head. There was blood.
"Fucking asshole," I swore, as I headed to the ensuite, near the veranda doors.
As I examined my head, for the cut, I heard the flapping of wings.
The crow landed next to me, sitting on the top of the toilet.
I wanted to flush him down the toilet, but with my luck he would just clog the plumbing.
"Look," he said finally.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot here."
I glanced at him.
"Ya fucking think?"
I opened the medicine cabinet. It was fully stocked. I took out some creme disinfectant and applied it to my head.
The crow held out his wing to me.
"My name is Russell."