It's a working title.
Monday is garbage day and as Rocco from Rocco's Modern life will tell you, "Garbage day is a very dangerous day." Last week I beat the trash man to the punch before the truck was making it's second go around. Having just come back from a vacation there was only one trash bag so I didn't see the need to keep it in the barrel right?
Wrong.
Within minutes after putting the bag to the curb seagulls and crows were beaking that thing to high Hades. I began furiously searching my place for objects to hurl at those foul creatures. I eventually settled on just running out and yelling obscenities at them. I had to pick up my stinking scattered trash AND use another insanely overpriced Portland trash bag. Irate, I swore revenge and tomorrow I will have it.
Cry havoc and let slip the hogs of war!
Shit.
I just looked it up and it's dogs of war. Whatever farm animal of war, let them slip. I knew it was Shakespeare so half credit.
Tomorrow I bait the trap, trash bag unprotected and in the open, LACED with alka seltzer dissolved in ammonia (Not yet sure if this is plausible). Then rampage. Hey seagulls, did you see Regis today?
BOOM!
I almost want to be wearing camo and smoking a cigarette doing this (although the two are somewhat contradictory).
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