You’ve been caught red handed robbing the bird feeder in the darkest hours, like a thief at an ATM.
This is not the first time I’ve caught you perched upon the white fence leaning ever so slightly toward the squirrel proof feeder; just enough to keep your balance and slap bird seed into your paw. Though it’s 3am, I see you clearly.
Determined to derail your intentions, I tap on the window with my finger, you hear me, look around, then dig back into the dark seed stash dangling over the patio cement slap fifteen feet below. I rap again, and you look again, missing my face four feet away, staring through a window pane; my face contorts and fingers form a claw ready to attack, yet again I’m just a nuisance to you.
I flick on the outside light, to see your reaction, but you act like it’s an aid to your devious manner. The dirty rat in your naturalistic way reflects the villain mask on your face.
I’m too tired to be ignored. Turning the front door unlocked and opening the door, like a raged woman going out for vengeance, you leap from the railing, exiting quicker than I’d seen you before, vacating your perch for safer ground, before I shut the door, flick off the light, then head back to bed.
Keystroke Stories 