SGM Seeks LTR in NYC: JT and the Fistfull of Tweets

My story begins and ends with tweets. Allow me to explain …

*****

Whoosh.

Sleepily, I opened my eyes.

Whoosh.

There it was again. Some weird noise awoke me from a pleasant dream in which I was gently fondling Darren Criss’s … well, we’ll just go with pectorals … and I was disoriented, lying in my bed, just coming back to consciousness. Suddenly, a dark shape whipped past my field of vision, along with the now familiar whooshing sound.

That’s weird, I thought hazily. If I was anywhere else but my room, I’d think that it was …

A bird! A bird is in my room! I realized, and I did the only thing befitting a heroic figure like myself.

It’s a funny thing, to be cowering under the blankets when you know there’s an airborne animal in your room, your only sanctuary in this hectic world. At first, I tried to convince myself I was incorrect in my analysis of the situation.

It’s a hallucination, I thought. Of course. It’s merely hypnagogic imagery, which is produced by the confused electrical synapses in your brain just before you fall asleep. Yeah. I did research on this stuff, I remembered. In college. When I was into lucid dreaming. That was cool stuff. (And definitely a subject for another article.)


Trippy …

And then, I heard it.

The tweeting. And not the fun, LOL-bombs on your smart phone. I mean the actual definition.

There was no doubt about it. There was a motherf**ing bird in my motherf**ing room.

I pulled the covers down to peek, and my assailant immediately dive-bombed straight for me.

“Ahhh!” I screamed.

Okay, right … all that brain stuff happens before you fall asleep, not after you wake up, I remembered.

A bird! There’s really, really a bird in my room, like for total realsies! How the hell did a bird get in my room?

I realized two things. First, even though the world was one big smear without my contact lenses, I could tell all of my windows are closed.

Second, I realized I was naked, as is my wont when I’m sleeping. Naked, ironically, as a jaybird.

This was no way to do battle.

While all these thoughts were occurring to me, I noticed my nemesis has grown silent. Visually impaired, I looked around the room for a dark fuzzy shape that shouldn’t be there. Finally, I found it.

Okay, this is some hardcore geekery I’m about to drop on you guys, but it’s time I admitted something. Like all good-martial-arts-films-obsessed nerds, I own a samurai sword. It sits on a stand on top of my dresser, and though my vision was blurry, I could see that the bird had landed atop the very instrument that, on a good day, I would utilize to usher in its destruction.


Don’t judge me don’t judge me don’t judge me …

Your instrument is most impressive, it said to me, mockingly. We shall see who is the greater warrior.

I had met my match in this kamikaze bird, and I had no plan.

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