An example of correspondence I really wish I could send to some corporate entities. Written with channeling the spirit of my inner Lewis Black.
To: The Department Head of Useless Junk and Product Flim-Flammery of Dollarama Canada
From: A very dissatisfied customer
To whom it may concern,
I wish to inform you about a recent purchase I made from one
of your stores, that being a decoy owl which was purportedly labeled as a
“scarecrow” owl, to be used to deter and scare away unwanted avian vermin. I
just wanted to let you know, with some resounding clarity, that . . . IT
DOESN’T WORK WORTH A SHIT!!!
For several weeks now, I have been bothered by the presence
of not just one, but two annoying pigeons that have been attempting to occupy
and commandeer my second-floor balcony space. Initially, they tried building a
nest in my barbeque, and then later, took to sneaking their unwelcome activity
into the space behind it. Their (very) early morning, every morning, rustling
and loud, obnoxious, cooing can be heard directly outside my bedroom window. So
frequent is their annoying presence, I thought that we should be acquainted on
a first-name basis, with me dubbing them names, reflective and befitting their bothersome
little asshole selves: Percy and Edna.
I can’t even guess as to how many days it has been going on
now, but it has come to the point of being ritualistic.
I get woken by the loud and repetitive cooing by horny old
Percy, who has been trying to woo his frigid old stick-in-the-mud mate, Edna, who
has been resistant to his courtship, possibly due to his less than impressive site
selection and nest-crafting talent. Whatever the case, the bloody cooing is
non-stop! Each morning, I thrash my way out of the bedsheets between an hour
and an hour and a half before my actual regular alarm time, even earlier yet as
the solstice approaches. I head out onto the deck of balcony, flailing my arms,
and well-prepared to strangle the little bastards if I could ever catch them. I
threaten and yell at them with insults and curses: with me calling them a bunch
of useless, noisy, parasite-festered, deck-shitting, feathery-rat squabs. They
temporarily flutter off and perch on the nearby telephone line, six metres away
and another five metres upward, glaring defiantly at me, and with their ululating
cooing, I imagine they are returning insults and curses akin to comparing me to
some sort of grouchy old, courtship-spoiling, nest-wrecking, mangy looking
half-monkey varmint; one that’s too stupid and inept to know how to climb up a
telephone pole, in Pigeonese of course. Apparently, they are either too
stubborn, or too stupid to know what intimidation behaviour is from a human.
I first thought I was the luckiest man of the day when I
chanced upon finding your very lifelike rendering of a plaster decoy owl on one
of your store’s shelves. The gleeful thought of, “AHA, a solution! . . . I’ll
fix’em now!”, came to mind instantly. I hastily purchased the item, took it
home, and set it on the spot on my deck where they perch most often. Like they
did to treasured weapons way back in the days of yore, I even decided to
christen the fake owl object with a name. I named her Hecate the Owl (Hecate
l’Hibou en français): a real cool and mean-ass-sounding witch name. However,
it didn’t take even a day, nor even an hour, but 15 MINUTES, until I heard the
cooing return. I poked my head outside and found that that damn owl didn’t
repel these pigeons at all, but rather it seemed to attract them! Moreover,
Percy and Edna were even more persistent with the cooing, both in frequency and
loudness. Perhaps, they thought since this damn thing wasn’t responding to
their first calls that this follow bird was half-deaf, so they had to turn up
the volume! And goddamn it! If that wasn’t enough, I swear, I caught old Percy
trying to mount and copulate with Hecate! And I blame Edna! - if she acquiesced
to Percy’s charms at least once in a while, he wouldn’t have to resort to this kind
of wild kinky bullshit! Now, because pigeons are resilient, and just because the
natural world seems to hate me so much, I fear that there may indeed be some strange
chance of some insidious miracle of biological reproduction happening. That
soon I’ll find a nest with a clutch full of eggs, which once hatched, will
yield some freakish half-pigeon flesh/half-owl plastered bastard
pigeonling/owlet monster offspring things, that will make a whole damn chorus
full of fuckin’ spooky mutant hoot-coo sounds, as well as being equipped to
peck out my eyes and shred my skin with sharp talons like any other vicious and
angered bird of prey would … and Jesus Christ! Only God knows what will happen to
my property! Can you imagine what a half-plaster being would do when it starts
crapping all over the place? I’ll need a jackhammer to clear the shit away when
it dries! All because of the false promise of your “scarecrow” owl being
effective at deterring the presence of such unwanted critters!
I would bring this poor, now sexually assaulted, mannequin
owl back for you to refund my money, but you’ll probably invoke some legalese
bullshit about the owl being advertised as a “scarecrow”; not a “scarepigeon”. Or
else, after this account, you will reject my plea due to suspecting old pervy
Percy risking tainting Hecate with some sort of weird, avian STI. So, as
perhaps it is so with some of your other customers, in a similar such situation,
I’ll just accept that I’ve been screwed over!
Thus, I have no other recourse than to do this. I’ll leave
this pigeon-pecker befouled statue at the store it came from, and strongly
implore you to take that useless, piece of shit - and shove it up your ass! . .
. sideways!
Sincerely,
