The Great Big Anticlimax

By the simple fact that you are reading this, you can safely assume that I survived the battle between the forces of dirty darkness, and the City Planning Commission. In this assumption you are correct. As well, as of this writing, the tower still stands, a great monument to homeless ingenuity. But how you may ask??............... Well I’m glad you asked.

My head hurt, it felt as if a midget had somehow crawled inside my ear as I slept, and was now pounding around in my brain with a midget sized sledge hammer. As I slowly opened my throbbing eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something important. With a groan I heaved my self to the top of the bunker wall, and gazed groggily out at a sea of uniformed city workers, each one armed to the teeth and wearing spiffy new riot gear. My poor abused brain struggled for comprehension, this had to be important……… it had to be……. Then it hit me!!!! This was the day of the big Merced Spring Hoopla Parade!! This must be a staging area………… no……that was last week…………….uuuummmmmmmmmmmm……… Right!!!! It was trash pickup day!!......... In riot gear??? Think stupid brain think……… ARRRRGH!!!!!! My Tower!!! The last great battle to decide the fate of all Merced!!!! Wildly I glanced around, expecting to see my forces assembled to meet this dire threat. All that remained of my grand army however was a jumbled mass of drunken bodies, sprawled this way and that. Out side across the small creek, the city forces had begun beating their rifle buts against their riot shields, womp womp womp. Slowly they advanced. I desperately listed my options, I had no army, all the ammunition had been consumed the night before in the drunken hope that gunpowder might produce some sort of intoxicating effect if snorted. All the gas for the flame throughers, and even the boiling oil had been likewise misused. My grand moment of glory it seemed had just ended before it had begun. After an exploratory volley, the city troops meeting no resistance halted their advance, reluctant to dirty their new uniforms, but obviously disappointed that the promised hordes of the Merced underground had not materialized. The Mayor himself who had opted to lead this fight also looked rather deflated. His glory to it would seem had been snatched out from under him. After short pause, and several dirty looks at my unresisting bunker the Mayor ordered his rocket launcher brigade to advance. Taking aim at my precious tower, the sound of fifty rocket launcher safety’s clicking off in unison echoed in the still morning air. This was it….the end. The Mayor opened his mouth for a mighty bellow, I closed my eyes, unable to look…………..but the order never came………I opened one eye experimentally…….the tower still stood. The Mayor still open mouthed was gazing towards the heavens in disbelief, and down from the blessed sky flew the prettiest sight I ever beheld. With all the grace of a ballerina with Downs Syndrome, a small bird crash-landed on to the top of my tower. It was the rarest of all North American bird species. The Fluff Bottomed Fiddlebooby, and clutched in its beak was a large clump of dried moss and straw, which it happily began arranging in nest like fashion. Bursting from my bunker I ran towards the shocked mayor, LOOK!! I yelled pointing up at the Fiddlebooby. HAH HA!! It stays!! My tower stays!! But my happiness was short lived, my sudden out burst had startled the bird, causing a large stick of straw to become lodged in the Fiddleboobys throught. Lacking opposable thumbs the poor creature could only flap its wings uselessly, whacking at its chest in a weak attempt to dislodge the offending twig. The fate of all hung in the balance, fifty rocket launchers followed every motion of my tower, which now swayed alarmingly due to the frenzied wallowing of the dieing bird. The Booby staggered towards the edge, and once more the Mayor filled his lungs to give the order to fire, but once again he never would get the chance. With one last fluffy hack, the Fiddlebooby expelled the straw from her windpipe, then calmly but shakily returned to her nest building.

It was over, I had won, so long as the nest stands my tower is safe from the threats of the city. The mayor however did not take his defeat lightly, and posted a permanent rocket launcher wielding guard at the base of my receiving tower, waiting to strike should anything ever happen to the towers protector. This makes me awful nervous, as the Fluff Bottomed Fiddlebooby is not known to be the brightest of birds. As I speak though, I am hatching a secret plan to kill, stuff, and animate the Fiddlebooby so as to ensure my towers permanent safety……I’ll keep all posted………………..