Almost every morning, I get shaken from my dreams by bloody birds. They sit on my window sill and screech. I toss around for a few minutes before pulling off my covers grumpily and yell at them. Shut the F up! I shout. Friends will know that I don't spout vulgarities, not even when I'm alone. Imagine how frustrated I get.
The idiots will hop around happily as if I just praised them for singing so beautifully on a Sunday morning, 8 am. Friends will know that I need my beauty sleep. Anyone disturbing me for no reason are subjected to my wrath.
Sometimes, I grab a roll of poster off my study table and try to push the birds off the sill. But I usually can't bear to. Anyway, they seem to realise my irritation recently and they move away. Away to the ledge behind the wall where my bed is. I can't reach out to hit them anymore, and they sing as shrilly as ever. 鸟啦.
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