I was watching the Olympics (am I allowed to even type that word without some fee being paid?) and saw a pigeon on one of the new venues, and said, “You better hold it in, buddy”, which reminded me of something that happened to me about fifteen years ago.

I was with my buddy Paul at a grocery store, picking up something for a Friday night barbecue and drinking binge, and in the parking lot we were approached (accosted?) by this disheveled woman, who asked if we could spare some change. We both said, “No!” and continued to Paul’s truck.

As I waited for him to unlock the passenger side door, I felt something hit my shoulder. I looked, and sure enough, bird shit. And here’s how it played out:

“Oh shit!” I yelled as I stared at the shit staining the shirt I was supposed to party in that night.

A woman’s voice called out, “What?” I didn’t know who it was, I didn’t care, I was just focusing on the mess running down my shoulder.

“A bird shit on me!” I yelled in reply, not even paying attention to who I was answering.


That’s when I realized who had asked the question. It was the woman I had snubbed a minute earlier. I looked at Paul and we both burst out laughing as he handed me some Kleenex.

So, poetic justice? Perhaps. What was the lesson learned? To give to those looking for a hand-out and not a hand-up? Nope.

The lesson learned was to not park beside the lamp posts in a parking lot.

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