Again, seriously people? This is the title I have to post to get you to click? All right, pipe down. No judging. I promise. Where was I�
Oh, yeah.
The one who wonāt shut up. That would be that bird I blogged about here.
Now, the lies come in to play because Honey lied when he promised we wouldnāt be bothered at night when we wereā¦well, you know, as birds are sleeping. Good thing, right? Donāt know about you, but I donāt want to be bothered when, well…you know. So, Iām like okay, Iāll deal with the annoying squawking bugger all day. I mean I love animals probably more than Honey and Honey has had Steven King to deal with. (I blogged about him here)
So hereās the progression of our hostage taking.
The bird known first as the ālittle guyā Actually I think Honey called him ācute little guyā at first, moved into our backyard and chirped most of the day. Every day. And I kid you not, there are only two things a guy sings so enthusiastically about. Heās either putting something into his woman or sheās pushing something of his out. Truthfully? Iām thinking how long can this last? If itās sex not long and if itās birth not too long either, right?
Wrong.
He is singing all day and half the night, most nights. We canāt keep the doors open, bad enough, but worse is the fact that you can still hear him and just two nights ago he discovered the hanging lantern on my bedroom patio. Now he perches there and sings, sings, sings. Seriously, I donāt know where he gets the energy.
He went from being called, āThe cute little guyā to āRelentlessā to āThe Relentless little shit who has a mind of his own.ā
And now? Thereās no sugar coating it. He is āThe Little *uckerā. But work with me here. The bird (which is no more than an inch and a half high) has to give up sometime right? This is what I say to Honey a 4 oāclock this morning when weāre both staring at the ceiling.
āDonāt they migrate, or something?ā
āYeah.ā
āWhen?ā
He turns his head to look at me. āShould I go ask him?ā
āYes and while youāre out there shoo him away.ā
āIām not going outside at this hour. Iām naked.ā
āSo.ā
āHeāll settle down in a minute.ā
After a full three minutes goes by and heās still chirping, honey throws off the duvet, āF%$# Hell!ā He whips open the slider and disappears. I hear a couple of claps and some rustling before he comes back in. āThere. Peace and quiet.ā
Unfortunately his head barely hit the pillow when our Little effer started again. Only this time he was twice as loud.
Honey looks right at me and scowls, āDoes he sound louder to you?ā
Being that I was wide awake I stopped whispering and answered, āYep.ā
I was expecting him to get up again or at the very least be pissed, so when he chuckled I was curious. āWhatās so funny?ā
āHe reminds me of the kids.ā
Iām looking all over the place trying to connect those dots, but I come up empty. āHow?ā
āThey always made me pay when I got mad at them. Do you remember the timeā¦?ā
So there we were, just like that other night the little guy woke us up, doing something unexpected at 4:15 in the morning. Honey and I played ācan you top thisā as we swapped amusing antidotes of how we tortured our children with our child rearing methods. (And, hey, by torture I donāt mean actual. I mean the kind of planned and plotted psychological mind-melding thatās impressive andā¦well, you get the idea) I was laughing so hard at one point I was crying. And after a while when we gave it much thought and deliberation Honey and I decided we should quit bitching about the Squawker and just adopt him. Heās such a stubborn pain in the ass itās like heās already one of our own.
I think Iāll call him Oscar.
UPDATE!!!!!!

Meet Oscar. It is 11:24 on Saturday March 9th and he’s singing his heart out in a tree by my open office slider. It’s loud and annoying. I’m ready to hang myself off one of the palms. Geezus!!!! Kinda cute though, no?
Riley š