Sometimes my evil pigeon bites me when I feed him*.
*Or is it a her? It’s a bird; until it lays an egg or develops prostate cancer, I won’t know the difference.
It never comes as a shock. If anything, I’m surprised it doesn’t peck me more often.
Why, you might ask, do I put up with and continue feeding a pet that attacks me? To which I reply, Because it’s an evil pigeon, you brainless twit.
Evil pigeon. EVIL. Of course it’s going to do evil things. Why in the world should I expect otherwise?
That’s what I love about baldfaced villainy: It never lets you down.
When it comes to the dark side, what you see is what you get. We advertise wicked deeds, and that’s what we deliver. No pleasant lies. No pretty promises no flawed mortal can feasibly keep. No smile for your front and knife for your back**.
**…Well, okay, you may get that last one, but come on, couldn’t you see the blatant malice all up in that smile? What do we have to do, tattoo “Treachery” on our foreheads? Get a clue.
On the flip side, you’ve got your nice people. You’ve got your “friends“. You’ve got these sweet, more-or-less innocent souls you think you can count on.
Pardon me while I burst into fit of maniacal laughter.
[Insert waiting muzak interspersed with dramatic lightning flashes and thunder crashes here]
A word to the wise…and the other 99.99999% of Earth’s population: You can’t count on your friends.
Friends will fail you. Not consistently — oh, no, that would be too kind, too easy. Sometimes they’re there for you. Sometimes they’ll lend a helping hand, offer a much-needed favor, buy your flaming book, do for you as they would have done unto themselves, and you’ll get all happy and excited and full of love and think that maybe the world’s not such a horrible place after all! [Insert the big goofy smile of a dupe here] Then there’s the rest of the time, when they totally leave you hanging. Oops, sorry, they were busy. Whoops, their bad, life got in the way. Aw darn, they fully meant to do you a solid, but they forgot.
Riiiiight, because what’s truly important to us is so easily forgotten***.
***This is sarcasm.
My pitiful Other Self has been burned times beyond tally by putting her trust in others, but I’ve learned better. I don’t trust anyone. Not even my evil pigeon. Because the day I start to count on him/her/it biting me is the day I’ll suffer disappointment when it pulls a fast one by not biting me.
…Which would actually be pretty evil of it, breaking my gullible little heart like that.
There’s a goo-oo-ood evil pigeon.