Home Sweet Home

my name is Russell

"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.