Bombed

Dateline: Richards and Nelson

It seems that pedestrians had been pestered. Needless to say, this needed to be checked and even possibly annotated.

Walking, gingerly, in the general area it was a shock to hear screams from the trees. Mad, angry screams that filled every space between the molecules of gases in the air and would not could not stop. Very loud it was. And invisible. No amount of attempting to search through the greenery of the street side trees would give a clue.

This was, of course, a crow. A very pissed off crow from the sound of it. A crow not to be messed with. Better to turn and walk away. The only clue of imp-ending doom (aside form the Doppler effect of the screaming crow) was the sound of ripping leaves. A quick look over the shoulder and there it was. Swooping down in what could only be described as: a bombing position effect. A fast thought, do crows aim for the eyes with their razor talons? There was an impossibly tight whirl and a half -hearted second pass and then the crow was gone, cawing and shaking on a power line across the street. Danger, gladly, averted.

How can this possibly be important? (Aside from the fact that a bird brain was endangering a populace: consider this to be a comparison to the last Bush administration)

The laughter. No sooner than the crow was crowing victory to all who could hear and searching for yet another unsuspecting bomb target the laughter began. And could not stop for minutes. The first genuine laughter in six months. The catharsis of humour. Proof of life.

Thanks crow.