Inspired (and encouraged) by InkyPink and her poem about squashed pigeons and how they never seem to get out of the way in time.
The Great Pigeon Debate
Pigeons were a result of an evening spent in the pub by God and The Devil.
"I'll give 'em wings, jusht to make them a bit different to rats," slurred God, waving His hand majestically, a bit tiddly after one too many Babychams. (Usually He could manage three, but tonight He was drinking on an empty stomach.)
"Good idea, bro," chuckled The Devil, knocking back another whisky chaser and calling for another, scorching the very air around him with his breath of doom. "But how about this." He leaned forward with a devious leer. "I'm gonna make 'em so stoopid that even a set of wings ain't gonna be enough to save their pretty little hides. Oh, the delicious irony of it all! Muahahahahaaaaaaaa!"
God stared disapprovingly (and a little boss-eyed) at The Devil. "Ooh. You. Are. Evil."
The Devil stared back at God, incredulously. "Well, *yeah*...!"