No, wait. I think Charlie Sheen said ‘Put the hooker in the closet‘.
Ok, then the bird should go in the box. Got it. Good thing, too, since the closet is quiet full of my clothes and skeletons.
As many of you may know, I have a penchant for rescuing wounded things. Birds. Mammals. Men. One might assume that while driving around the country I would not have as much opportunity for rescuing wounded beings.
Sadly, no. Like moths to a flame, they seem to find me wherever I am on the planet.
They may leave for a brief period to temp the fate of being eaten by a hawk or to join the circus. And when I say one left to join the circus, believe it or not I am NOT referring to one of the rescued animals. One now-ex-boyfriend actually left for a brief period with the intention of joining the circus.
I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
If you don’t share this story, zombies will get you. (Just a little.) . . . → But wait, there’s more! : Put the hooker in the box, and the bird in the closet.