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yahya griffin sometimes liked to feed the
pigeons
on sunday mornings,
you could find him in the park,
sitting on a bench by the grassy
knoll,
tossing out bird seed, or crumpled bread,
to a score or more of flying rats
he seemed to draw amusement
from the who-ing and
the squabbling
caused by a single crumb amidst so many eager
stomachs,
and from the chaos that ensued
when that single crumb had been
devoured
occasionally, yahya would walk to the lake
and give to the ducks whatever the pigeons didn't
seem interested in,
but the fowl didn't entertain as well as the
game
and to spite them for it,
yahya would mix in a bit of arsenic for a
giggle
at sixty three years old,
the anger still
raged a little in yahya
and he seemed more than happy
to take it out on anyone at random
but feeding the pigeons on a sunday morning
always seemed to make him feel better
even if only for a little while
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- [EMAIL PROTECTED]
aim at
mrbigfoo,
distracted with his shoes untied. |
