There was this bizarre scratching from outside on the wall against my bed.
Naturally I went out to explore, with the expectations of finding a midget or a puppy. And I'm walking around in my gnome pajama pants trying to find the source of the mysterious scratching, and I see my wierdo cat-dog rolling around on it's back and then glance over to see a bird lying on the ground. So, I get a towel, am VERY careful not to touch it after the bat episode last year (rabies scare), and bring it inside. It was still alive, so I put it in a giant Tupperware container with a blanket and tried to eyedropper it some water. But it wasn't thirsty. I named it Nick Cage. Just kidding. So I left to go Google, "What to do with a sick bird that you've found outside your home after you've heard some scratching creature outside your bedroom window" and when I came back, it was dead.
It was the saddest thing ever.
Nick Cage. Where you be? Why you dead? Just want make proud.
This all took place at 11:30 at night.
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