A Normal Day (from a pigeon's view)
"Mommy!" A little girl squealed. She tossed her bowl of porridge to the floor and shrieked as she kicked her feet, throwing them high into the air and letting them thud back down onto the plastic footrest of her high chair.
"Sweetie, don't make a mess," A pretty woman with honey-coloured hair reprimanded. She fixed a dangling earring onto her lobe and grabbed the mop out of the hallway closet.
"Jimmy! You're going to be late for school!" A silver-haired man called down the hall. A plump redheaded boy slid open the door and emerged with an armful of toys.
"You can't bring those to school," The man told him.
"But Dad! These are for show and tell!"
"Okay, choose one, and hurry up, you don't want another detention."
Dashboard Confessional played softly on the stereo as pretty nineteen-year-old Melissa Weathers applied her make-up. She carefully swept cover-up over her unsightly freckles and began brushing her mascara over already long lashes as her younger brother pounded on the bathroom door and muttered curse words under his breath.
Thirty-two year old Harry didn't want to go to work. He hit the snooze button for the fourth time that day and closed his eyes. He could hear his overbearing wife making breakfast in the kitchen and knew he'd better get up soon, or he wouldn't hear the end of it for a month.
Stanley could feel the age in his bones. He sat beside his wife on their old couch as the news blared from the TV. He remembered the "good ol' days," when watching TV wasn't the highlight. He remembered how it felt to be young and hold his beautiful wife's hand. Now rheumatoid arthritis crippled them and their once fine features had diminished in lines and sags.
Matt Bower was tired of life. Melissa, the girl he loved, was cheating on him with a thirty-two year old man. The daughter Matt had conceived with her had been taken away and adopted by a unknown lady with pretty, honey-coloured hair. His younger brother, and the only reason he had stuck with life all the years, had ran off to live with his father, and Matt was going to be sent to live with his decrepit grandparents any time soon.
It was a good deal, actually. A place to live while he attended college in a different town. However, the only reason he was going to college, was to better support his alcoholic mother.
Matt couldn't take it anymore. He turned the alarm clock off, swallowed the entire bottle of sleeping pills, chased by his mother's cheap wine, rolled over, and closed his eyes.
Green-white remnants of the pigeon's dinner oozed out onto the windowsill of young Matt Bower, covers pulled high and fast asleep. The pigeon pecked at some stray seeds before spreading its wings to move on to another windowsill, where hopefully, the pickings would be better.