True Story

The following actually occurred last night:

Our heroine is stumbling home, perhaps a bit (a lot) intoxicated. As she approaches her front door, she notices a dark shape huddled against the door.

P&G: What the fuck?
Shape: ...
P&G: Dude, you're a pidgeon.
Shape: ...
P&G: What the hell are you doing there?
Shape: ...
P&G: ...
Shape: ...
P&G: Am I seriously standing outside my front door having a conversation with a pidgeon?
Shape: ...
P&G: Fucking pidgeon.


Please note that this entry has necessitated a new tag called "Classy."