War of the Pigeons

Today is actually the 7th. But I put the entry date back to the forth because I hate you.

It was not the usual alarm clock that woke me. Why the beep-beep-beep didn't go off at 7 o' clock sharp, I still am not sure. Perhaps it has formed a mind of it's own; a cynical one at that. But its "efforts" (if a hypothetical alarm clock-mind has efforts at all) were in vain.

For I was awakened by pigeons.

In my room, I have two windows; one big, and one very small one. The more larger of the two is facing south and my bed is located directly beneath it. Now, Saturday night turned out to be quite hot, so the AC was running. But at about 1pm, my dad turned it off and said it was because he wanted to save electricity. Like America is in need of power saving anyway. So I opened my window and let the cool breeze in.

"Coo-Coo-Cooooo," was the first thing I heard Sunday morning. But you know when you're half asleep and you don't really know what's going on? Yeah, that was me. I invented that feeling. So I went back to sleep because my alarm hadn't gone off, naturally I thought it was still before 7.

It's funny how friendly little pigeons can suddenly turn you into a rampaging psycho. They could've stopped making that noise. They could've flew away from my window ledge. They could've fell off my window ledge. But no, they relentlessly pushed on. And on. And on.

Screw it, I thought. Getting up earlier wouldn't harm anyone. It couldn't be to far away from 7 o' clock anyway.

I checked my clock, and it read 9:15 am. The numbers seemed more lively today; like they were taunting me. Laughing at my folly, laughing because I wasn't going to make it. And it was then, I felt a sense of determination and conviction; I was going to make it.

Wierd, it was just church.

I managed to get there in time for Sunday services. We sang a couple of songs, and heard some prayers; particularily David Chui's (John's older brother). He talked about other countries and let his heart pour out. It made alot of people weep. But don't get the idea that I cried. Shut up.

After that, we had bible study (Book of John) then lunch, you know, the usual deal. Then my dad took me to Barnes and Noble because he wanted to get this book, Guns, Germs, and Steel, which is something his co-workers have been raving about. He ended up also purchasing Bill Clinton's My Life. I doubt he's ever going to read it, though. And lastly, he talked to me about my doing nothing productive except playing guitar and sleeping. So, he got Michael Behe's Darwin's Black Box for me (a yucky science book, the biochemical challenge to evolution to be exact).

Okay, moving on. I came home to sleep and get ready for fireworks later. I ended playing PS2's True Crime. At 4pm I went to Stuart's house and waited for people to come over. Let me tell you, the worst decision you can make in your life is to enter Stuart's room...with him in there (that is, without a safety buddy to call 911).

Ben wasn't coming for another hour, so I had no choice. We started playing a little guitar here and there, then he got bored. So I moved to his desk chair, and let him sleep on his bed. After awhile my stomach roared with hunger; maybe because I digest faster while being held captive.

I told him I was hungry and that we should go to Carl's to get a bite to eat. He said, "Okay, give me a hand up." I willingly obeyed. I pulled him up on his back and started to pack my guitar.

Then he fell back down.

At least six times I had to prop him up. On the last time I stayed behind him to hold him there. Dammit, he's freaking heavy. I gave up and retreated back to the much safer chair.

I never thought he would start to throw things at me. But I'm naïve, so my thoughts don't count. First line of fire was his guitar case. It wounded my eye, and one of my contacts fell out. Suck it up, Kevin. I took shelter behind a book shelf and returned fire.

I was hurt, but I wasn't down. Years of training had prepared me for this and through out the battle I kept in mind what my commander once told me: "Always expect the unexpected from Stuart." I let my guard down in the beginning; I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Then my stupidity caught up to me. I was right under the damned door knob! I manuevered my way out of the door and left the battle grounds for good. I was on his territory, he had an advantage; leaving was the only wise thing I could do.

Then his mom made fried rice for the both of us and we sat outside to eat. The mindless chatter of the TV was on, and it set the mood of good karma. But this time, my guard was up, I was thinking clearly. Somehow, I knew he was plotting against me. Even as I was chewing down on the rice, I knew.

Rice, as it had been known to do, has a way of stealing your thoughts and transferring them to some other bowl of rice. For today, it was my intelligence officer. I don't think Stuart knew how to harness the powers of the grain of rice, so now, the tides have changed and I was swimming in my own bathtub again.

Oh, if Ben hadn't knocked on the door that instant, Stuart would not have lived.

Well, I've been going on and on, so I'll try summarizing. We went to buy fireworks, lit them, and then I went home. Stuart tied a smoke bomb at the end of my bike and told me to ride it. Awesome. Eric came later with his brother and a whole bag of fireworks.

That's basically, well maybe I'm 1300 hundred words too late for basically but whatever, it.

It's wierd, I've been getting déjà vu alot lately. Maybe it's because of my growing up, memories tend to stack on each other, and therefore repeat. I'm not certain. But I'm always uneasy when it happens; you never know if Stuart might be lurking behind a corner laughing with his new creation of déjà vu zoo.