As someone who has lived through multiple plagues, this circulating disease has been the most annoying I’ve ever endured.
I’ve spent so much time on the toilet that I’ve painted the bowl a new shade of white. Mucus has oozed out of my beak hole, and there aren’t enough tissues in the world to stop it. Furthermore, my throat has been so sore that my bird calls are attracting canaries.
I have felt no motivation to do anything lately. Most of my days are spent lounging around my nest and playing Madden 25. I neglected to pay my water bill, which unfortunately caused the creek near my house to dry up. However, the power bill was paid, as I fear the moon.
My sick leave has gone unpaid because the government refuses to acknowledge my existence. Even my side hustle of selling eggs has taken a downturn. Admittedly, I can’t lay eggs, which was already an issue, but now it’s become even more challenging. I can’t explain how; it’s just the way it is.
When I first came down with the illness, I went to the hospital, but my health insurance company refused to cover the visit. There was no proof that I was sick. Maybe they’ll change their tune when they get the letters I sent them with pathogens inside.
It has now been two weeks since the onset of my illness. The health insurance company continues to see my flu as an unimportant waste of my own money, AND I’ve been named a terrorist by the DHS again.
This all started because of that company, and I’m feeling vengeful. The CEO is going on his “I’m So Rich” tour in a few days. He does not deserve to be all high and mighty when he continues to deny hard-working birds like myself the money they need to survive. So, I have taken it upon myself to exact my justice.
In the style of my cousin’s frequent attacker, I will place cartoonish signs with arrows leading the CEO away from the course that was planned for him. After that, he will find himself deep in the woods behind Applebee’s, a desolate location that is perfect for the site of my revenge.
When his back is turned, I will burst forth from the Unabomber’s former summer home and make my move.
I’ll pull down his pants and livestream his humiliation on Instagram to my millions of followers.
What did you think I would do? I’m a pacifist. I’ve killed birds, but that’s for food, and I just cut off their heads like an ethical person. Besides, the sound of a gun always causes me to abruptly fly off in fear anyway.
Maybe, in the end, this whole plan is just the delusion of a bird that cannot shake the flu. I do hope I can get over it soon, because the vultures circling above me are not a great sign.
