Headless Zombie Bird, I know you are in the outside garbage can. I know when I open the lid, you'll have somehow come out of your bag and be laying there in all your creepy birdness.
If you have no head, though, Zombie Bird, does that mean you are not going to rise again? I'm not sure, since I haven't watched enough zombie movies to know how a finally death would be for you.
All I really want to know is how you got into my yard. Your body was perfect, the feathers all neat and well kept. You were very big, too. When my kids came inside to tell me there was a dead bird outside, I had visions of a small brown swallow. Not a giant gray pigeon. But where was your head? And how did your head come off without any damage to the rest of you?
We couldn't let you lay there. Emma hadn't found you yet, but in all honesty, she would, and it would not be pretty. Imagine bird feathers everywhere. I held a bag open while my son shoveled you in. It was pretty terribly, with your bird legs dangling off the shovel.
I don't mean to offend you, but I really dislike birds. There's something about your beady little eyes and your sharp looking beaks. I don't care for you at all. So, knowing you are in my garbage has totally creeped me out. I couldn't bury you, because Emma might dig you up. You have to leave our place entirely.
I put you in on Monday, and today is Friday. Garbage day. I have managed to not have any need to open the can. I really don't want to see what happens to a Zombie Bird when they have been trapped in a garbage can for four days.
I have thought about you every day though. Several times a day. You've ruined my appetite when I ate popcorn, and gave me the shivers when I was trying to think happy thoughts before bed.
I am so glad today you are going away for good. Thank you for not rising up and wrangling the lid off the can. As I write this, I have to check one more time.
Nope. The lid is still on tight. Whew!