20 days
The ducks have been lined up upside, quacking their little hearts out, for the past 20 hours.
They’re starving. They’re always hungry. No wonder they became loyal visitors for the human who had the time and resources to feed them all day. (Mom’s time, my credit card.)
The duck-kicking cunt walked by a few times and ran into the throng of birds, screaming “Shoo!”
But then they came right back. We never failed them. Till now.
Besides, Bitch got enough screaming going on right now upstairs to last me 10 lifetimes. Oh and it’s six a freaking m. I’ve hit my quota on selfish screaming birches, thanks.
Mom cried all night. I offered to take seed downstairs in the dark but it’s not the same. These are her babies. The only joy in her pain-filled life.
I dint think anyone would ever realize that they are the only things she sees all week. They get her outside. She is their goddess.
They are kind and gentle and don’t harm or bother a soul. Just like her.
This place is a joke. I hate it worse than the last one. “Shoo” bitch still hasn’t procured a leash for her dogs which — if I got my information right — attached a boy walking to school last week.
But lo, you can beat your husband … Scream at your kids … Threaten your neighbors … Leave dog shit on the sidewalk to bake in the sun … Terrorize wildlife on the lake they lived on before this brand-new dump was ever built … But don’t show an ounce of kindness to God’s native creatures.
I guess that’s a pretty fucking appropriate way to acknowledge Columbus Day.
I wonder if I can buy a dozen syphillis blankets on eBay.
