Image from Cake Wreaks.
Hot sultry Moonday. Tropics in Manhattan.
I had it from good authority this morning that I need to lighten up. As the song says, 'Its only life after all.' We may as well laugh. The problem is that I'm a gallows humor person. The stuff I find funny isn't so light and fluffy. No angelfood for me. I prefer fruitcake that could double as a weapon.
Later today I was on Avenue A walking the dogs, looking for little clues to inspire my writing when a pigeon was hit by a passing car. THUD. I stopped in my tracks and covered my hand with my mouth in horror. The pigeon wasn't dead. It was intact. Head on and everything. Blinking. Another car was coming and the pigeon wasn't moving.
A bearded man in dirty brown pants and a grime gray wife beater ran flailing at the pigeon. It flapped its wings a bit and flew off the street into a plate glass shop window near my head. THUNK.
I stood motionless watching. The pigeon peered back at me with something I took to be suspicion, and flew off again to muscle in on a finch who was pecking at a piece of bread in the road. The bearded man grimaced and leaned against a building.
If I were writing the scene in a short film what would happen next is that the horrified, idiotically gaping passer-by (me) would be killed by a falling toilet bowl accidentally pushed off a windowsill by a crazy old lady who was using it as a bird bath for the pigeons.
Please don't be concerned gentle reader. I'm leaving the city for a few days at the end of the week for some much needed time in the woods where my real-life crazy neighbor who has been trying to get me to bury her dead cat in the garden for two years can't find me.
For this Moonday, tell me what/who makes you laugh? I'm craving laughter. I'll take it from anywhere. Even wholesome sources.
Here's a link to Eddie Izzard's 'cake or death' for those of you in my camp.