Thack You: My numerous dead canaries

Larry Thack’s Christmas list includes a hatchet, sack of lime, shovel, and carnival glass candy dish

The traffic in our county has reached a perilous point. Too crowded now for high speed chases and hunting game from our vehicles, we are now like every other bedroom community affixed to Atlanta like a plantar wart.
I suffer from dropsy as a result of the poison fumes from the monster trucks and station wagons that jam our streets. As such I’ve begun to carry a canary with me as my coal-mining forefathers did to tell me when the danger of asphyxiation is high. Several of my birds have perished, many before I can establish meaningful relationships.
The first such incident occurred as I was leaving the barbershop behind that guy’s house downtown. It’s just off the square in that yellow house where Sam, the proprietor, is adamantly opposed to tipping. With my hair looking as good as can be expected, I sought to cross the street to my car when my canary started chirping violently. I looked up to see one of those religious paraphaneliacs bearing down on me with a pamphlet. As I turned to run, my canary flew at the mugger who, in one swipe, spread his feathers on the sidewalk with her amply-sized bible. I shall miss my bird but am gratified by the missed encounter as I was able to escape unharmed.
Canary number two was sucked into one of those giant fans that circulates air on the golf putting greens. Between the feathers and blood, it became unclear where the hazard lines were, so my playing partners gave me a free drop away from the fan. Thank you small bird.
Recently my latest canary and I went for a walk near the old high school when we were confronted by some toughs who started pushing us around. Apparently, between my yellow hoodie and my bird’s yellowy feathers we were mistaken for members of “The Latin Kings” gang. I was beaten to within an inch of my life before the principal “conveniently” intervened. My bird was not so fortunate having been stoned to death with pea-gravel from a well-landscaped French drain nearby.
None of the canaries has yet to suffer from pollution asphyxiation so I guess the county is safe for now. I will consider getting a protective, small cage when the lady at “Digger’s Antique Store” is ready to do some horse-tradin’.




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