You know it’s summer when tourists and tourist-beggars start to invade the town. Of course, the rising temperature and scorching sun is a pretty good indication too, but nothing is as certain as the mark of the beast – or tourist.
When I woke up this morning I heard animal cries in the distance. What’s this? I asked myself. But my self couldn’t be bothered, it was too busy making coffee. But when I got outside the door at ten to ten, I heard it again, and I looked up.
Sigg3: What is that? Can you tell me what they are?
My self: They are Americans.
Sigg3: Wow.. it’s a flock.
My self: And they’re flocking this way —
Sigg3: Look at the wheeling – – the uniform direction change!
Like a flock of birds evading a predator!
* Enter T-Rex *
My self: STAMPEDE!
I ran and ran and ran! down the street, only stopping once to catch the glimpse of an American tourist being eaten by the Tyrannosaurus Rex launching in from a side street to the west. The rest of the startled flock ran for shelter towards the Edvard Munch museum of fine arts. The kill was swiftly over in the thick cloud of dust and debris.
My self: I wanna go. Now.
Sigg3: Watch how it eats!
My self: Please!
Sigg3: Look at all it’s blood!
My self: PLEASE!
Sigg3: Bet you’ll never look at birds the same way again! Okay. Keep low. Follow me.