The Ballad of Larry the Pigeon

Larry the Pigeon sat high above ground on the small ledge atop the cluster of offices on the very edge of town. From their windows the office workers would only see the smoggy pavement, smeared with the vomit of the alcoholic homeless, but Larry could see much more. So very much more. From the residential district where they’d found that woman trying to interbreed with a fence, to the place where that man got ran over by a tram and they erected a muffin shop in his honour, the immense horizon was always within Larry’s reach. It was frightening, dangerous, vast, wonderful. Larry’s city. Larry’s kingdom.

Sometimes the children would come out and play for a few minutes before they found another body in the playground’s sandpit and they had to go home. This pleased Larry greatly. The sound of children screaming always meant that another meal had been left out for him. He didn’t care much for sand, but he cared very much for brains.

The days would go by very much the same. The sun would rise, Larry would try to eat the faces of pedestrians, poop on cars and generally just be a massive arsehole. The sky would turn from black to red to orange to blue and find solace again in the dark. The sun would move across the sky and Larry with it, across mountains (of concrete) and streams (usually of urine).

And now Larry sat atop the office building looking out, preening himself with his manky foot that most pigeons seem to have for some reason. Soon the office workers would go home for tea, to eat, to sleep, to invariably dream about ending their lives, to wake up and come back tomorrow. Larry had made a right fucking mess of their roof. He was an unwelcome sight and an unwelcome smell, just the way he liked it. He was covered in what can only be assumed to be layers of shit, but he did not mind. This roof was his kingdom, dead rats and all.

Then Tim, Larry’s pigeon friend, flew over and landed beside him. Tim was one of those pigeons that was born with the unusually common trait of stealing chips from children.

‘Wanna see something awesome?’, asked Tim.

‘Yeah, alright’, said Larry.

Larry watched as Tim flew away from the rooftop and directly into the wall opposite. Tim slid down the wall and landed on the pavement with a satisfying thud. Larry flew down and looked at his friend smeared all over the wall, brains all over the pavement.

‘You’re right’, Larry said as he was getting ready to eat Tim’s brain, ‘that was pretty awesome’.

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About Anna

Author of the Insanity Aquarium. Current fears include time as a concept, the squishiness of my right eyeball, and not being able to open this jar.
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21 Responses to The Ballad of Larry the Pigeon

  1. I don’t throw too many body parts away, but I don’t quite trust people who never watch Family Guy myself.

    Like

    • Anna says:

      I know right! They’re more the type to watch Geordie Shore and Take Me Out, whatever in Hell they are.

      Like

  2. Pete Howorth says:

    “Tim was one of those pigeons that was born with the unusually common trait of stealing chips from children.”

    I knew that fucker all too well! I thoroughly enjoyed this weeks edition as always, sorry it’s taken me so long to get round to it. Your blog posts, I like to take my time with and not rush into haha.

    How did the three month review go?!

    Like

    • Anna says:

      Three month review is next month! I’m pretty terrified. I’m sure they’ll keep me on but there’s also the possibility I might explode from the tension until then. Plus, I keep doing ridiculous things, like asking people if they have ever watched Family Guy (literally no-one in my office has ever seen it), and if they had noticed the body parts I put in the skip for a laugh. Apparantly these things are not good for office friendships.

      Like

    • Pete Howorth says:

      LOL! That’s the sort of shit that’d make me be your friend. They sound morbid if they havent watched Family Guy.

      I’m using the body parts one tomorrow.

      Like

  3. Anne Schilde says:

    I have to share a true story. There is a gardening shed on our complex where the door is often left open. A couple of years ago, a dove, which is basically just a boring pigeon, nested in there. I can sort of understand that. People going in and out of the shed all the time, 120 degree heat, shelves nice and low to the ground in easy reach of cats… pretty much a perfect place for the babies! Not so much for mom though, as she abandoned the nest every time someone went in. A couple of times the babies were left locked up in the sweltering shed alone, once for several days.

    Somehow three of them survived. Doves don’t kick their fledglings out of the nest. They simply leave and go mate again, trying to squeeze as many broods into a season as possible. I happened by the shed and the three babies flew out startled. Only one of them flew straight into the cement wall of the complex and plopped on the ground in front of me. It was unconscious, but alive, bleeding from its nose, so I picked it up and put it back into its nest.

    A couple of days later I noticed someone had closed the shed so I thought I’d go check on the little guy. I opened the door and the nest was empty so I started to leave. But he was just hiding, and I heard the startled fluttering and he flew straight out of the shed and into the same cement wall and broke his neck and died. I felt kind of bad for him, so I named him Darwin.

    Did you ever read Pigeon Whispers?

    Anyway, fabulous story once again Anna! I especially love the manky feet… gives a new meaning to pigeon-toed. Haha, served that stupid chip thief right!

    Like

    • Anna says:

      That’s actually incredibly tragic in a morbidly fascinating kind of way. I genuinely have a deep rooted fear/hatred of most winged creatures, but especially pigeons. I’ve been known to duck down screaming in the street because they fly much too close to my face… they’re going for the cheek flesh, I tell you, THE CHEEK FLESH!

      No, I haven’t ever read the ‘Pigeon Whispers’, although it does sound rather terrifying. Some birds I don’t mind, like penguins and the suchlike. It’s only when they’re trying to eat me I seem to develop some kind of ‘anti’ emotions…

      THE CHEEK FLESH! Oh, sorry. Flashbacks and such! Don’t eat me! DON’T EAT MEEEE!

      Like

    • Anne Schilde says:

      My story of a vagrant and a pigeon. I’ve thought since I posted it, you might enjoy it.

      Like

    • Anna says:

      Oh, if it’s one of yours, then I am sure it shall be fabulous! I need to go and wash the pots and get some coffee and then I am coming back to indulge in your wonderful story :D

      Like

  4. A rather bonkers addition to your blog of tales.

    Humorous and entertaining though, so well done.

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  5. darkjade68 says:

    lol, Hugely Elaborate… What a Great Piece… I don’t know why, but during reading this I kept having the Instinct to Stuff Larry into a Car’s Exhaust Pipe, lol

    Does that say something about Me, or Larry, lol

    Or dare I say the Writer, to Evoke such a Response, lol

    Eh, I’ll take the Blame… This was a Wondrous World that you Created, Full of Death, Gore and Wonder as one would hope to find in your work.

    Well Done Anna, I really Enjoyed it

    DarkJade-

    Like

    • Anna says:

      Thanks DarkJade! And yes, that does seem a little violent. Totally justifiable though… pigeons are awful! They scratch out your eyes and rape your children. Oh, and steal your food, which is probably the worst thing.

      Like

    • darkjade68 says:

      I miss you, hope you are well… Haven’t been hangen on the Forums too much, as there’s a Couple Know it all Thugs over there, and I grew tired of watching them Cut People Down.

      Hope you are well

      DarkJade-

      Like

    • Anna says:

      I miss you too. I haven’t had much time for the forums recently due to the new house things and general starvation due to a lack of funds, also due to new house things. I’ve had supernoodles everyday for about 8 days now and have dabbled on the forum for only a few of them. The times they are a’changin’, my friend! Which reminds me, I need to buy something that isn’t supernoodles.

      Like

    • darkjade68 says:

      Wow, Starving, and Forced to Eat Noodles for days on end… That does sound like renting your first place, lol The Freedom of having your own place is unrivaled, but Noodles, after Noodles, after Noodles…. Yargh, that’s difficult.

      I’ve been through times like that… I remember when I was a kid with my brother and My Mom… We had a Milk man, and there were times that we were so broke, that we basically lived off whatever the Milk Man Sold, and he’d let us wait to pay him. Nice Guy. I ate much Cheese, Milk and Yogurt during these times, lol.

      Well, I am not pleased about this… Dark or not, your Heart is True… And you deserve nothing but the best in life… And that Includes Large Chunks of Meat, and of course, Endless Toast. I would Offer you all of My Poetry Book Sales towards your Cause, but Alas, they only Amount to $4.10 Profit (I’ve sold 2, lol), and they wont be sending me a Check until it hits $25, lol

      But Anna, is there a Possible Raise in the Future? I know you’re fairly New to the Job, but Need is Need… And if they like you, it may not hurt to ask if there’s any hope for one in the future. Scary stuff though.

      Alright I’ve said enough, lol You are My Friend, I want you to Eat… And I’m sending Serious Positive Vibes your way in the Food Department… And with Diabetes, Argh, Noodles will really mess with yer blood sugar… Ooops, I started again, lol… Obviously Eat whatever you can get your hands on. But I’m Sending Warm Thoughts and Excessive Hope in Your General Direction.

      DarkJade-

      Like

  6. Strictly as a “blogging friend”, I love you. It’s the little things. Oh, the story as a whole is splendid of course, but it’s the little touches that make your writing so good and so funny. Things like “and they erected a muffin shop in his honour”, or “to invariably dream about ending their lives.”
    Do you have to rewrite the plot much? Or does the story just flow for you like that? Do you largely write it in your head while you are at work or whatever?

    Like

    • Anna says:

      Eeeee! You’re so awesome, thank you so much! I’m so, so happy that you can uncover the little touches because they are the parts that I love and are mostly the parts that I am always satisfied with the most when I have finished writing. And I never write in my head, because I always forget it! I jot single sentences down in my notepad and then weave them into a larger narrative on the Sunday evening. But I love the haphazard inspiration, it keeps me feeling sane :)

      Like

  7. Aw, Tim. You aimed too low.

    Like

    • Anna says:

      He was probably after someone’s chips. His love for fried goods was the undoing of him, as it will be for us all. Mmm. Chips.

      Like

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