If you’ve been reading my blog for a while you’d know that since getting my last car, I have struck and killed some wildlife. Seriously, I had never hit any animal prior to getting this car. It’s true. Since it’s been a while since I’ve hit anything I was starting to think my car had fulfilled it’s lust for blood, that is, until this past Saturday. While driving back from town, I pulled onto my street and from out of nowhere flew a beautiful woodpecker straight toward my windshield. I applied the brakes, served a bit into the other lane, but BAM!, sadly, it was too late. And so now is the time I give the latest victim of my Murder Car a proper name and a proper eulogy poem, because, well, that’s the kind of crazy I do.
Ode To Woodrow the Woodpecker
A Poem of Eulogy by Laura Ledford
You flew with so much fancy, from tree to tree you flit
But then you hit my windshield, you stupid little shit
I tried to swerve to miss you, but you hit with a thud like a rock
Like something straight out of The Birds by Alfred Hitchcock
And at first I thought I just clipped you, and perhaps you were not dead
But I saw your body flop, and on the window were parts of your head
Now you’ve gone to fly and hunt bugs hopefully in a heavenly sky of blue
Go in peace, my friend, ’till we meet again, and I’m sorry my car killed you
Now if everyone would please hit the ‘Play’ button and bow their heads in a moment of reflection and try to remember Woodrow as he was, not as the feathery flopping, headless mess he left here on Earth. Fly home, little dude. Fly home.30 Comments
Links to Enjoy
- Andrew Knapp Photos.
- Pot Noodles.
- The Hyena Handlers of Nigeria.
- Rest in fucking pieces, Mr. Darcy.
- Wake Up!
- Hitler's Home Movies.
- Subway Surfer.
- MC Mom.
- Is Your Girlfriend a Horse?
- Now I want to go to Iceland.
- Karaoke Hitler.
- Wake up! They see us!
- How a Gas Nozzle Knows When To Shut Off.
- A Yelp Review left for Walter Palmer's Dental Practice.
- Sleeping Guy Gets Twizzlered.
- Birds in Watercolor.
- When Taunting Goes Wrong.
- Google Sheep View.
- 3 year old girl explain the complexities of childbirth in 4 seconds.
The car wash is all like, “It’s blood, alright, but from what.” “Is that brains?” “Jesus, why don’t the cops know about this one?” Leave ‘um a good tip, my friend. Buy their silence.
They take their tips from my coin holder. Bastards.
BTW – What is it about your car that says “Animal suicides welcome?”
I don’t know! It kinda reminds me of Damien.
Dammit! we have that type of woodpecker too. They bring their babies to the suet. Poor orphaned babies. You need to have that car exorcized! Ha
Did you name your car Christine? Or Maximum?
I just call it the Murder Car. Classier.
Great. Make me feel even worse.
Your life is never boring, which is why I live vicariously through it.
It helps to use hyperbole. Oh, and drink gin and eat bacon sandwiches. It’s what makes life fun.
Well, maybe it was a bad bird deserving of murder. Like, maybe it left a nest full of needy fledglings to go flirt with underage chickadees, or peck at the eyes of innocent raccoons. (Wait, is there such a thing as an innocent raccoon?)
Now don’t be talking smack about my Spirit Animal!
What would you want with an innocent spirit animal?
Shit! What if the woodpecker was a suicide-bomber full of rabies?
Then my windshield pecker-blocked it.
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s the Woody Woodpecker song. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! He’s a-singin’ it all day long.
Go in peace Woody.
And ya know, they don’t sound like that. And I mean not just the dead ones.
sigh * sadly shakes head
LOVE Queen. Who hasn’t sang this at a high school game? No one, that’s who.
Every eulogy should include the deceased being called a stupid little shit. So it has been written, so it shall be done.
Probably the best eulogy I’ve ever read. I feel as though I was there.
You may have been.
That’s one bad ass windshield you have on your car. Woodpeckers spend their days beating their heads against tress and “WHAM” one strike by your windshield leaves woodpecker brains on the glass.
I’m telling ya- it’s a Murder Car.
Love your Ode to Woodrow.
I think some birds around here are adrenaline junkies and they perch near the streets – Daring each other to fly right in front of cars…around here that’s right level with the grills…. I just Hate that.
Squirrels especially like to risk it.
Just let me know when you’ll be driving down my street. I’ll be up a fucking tree. Probably getting pecked by Woodrow’s cousin. All the while screaming, “It wasn’t me!”
It’s disturbing that you’ll be in a tree in my neighborhood. lol