SGM Seeks LTR in NYC: JT and the Fistfull of Tweets

My story begins and ends with tweets. Allow me to explain ...

*****

Whoosh.

Sleepily, I opened my eyes.

Whoosh.

There it was again. Some weird noise awoke me from a pleasant dream in which I was gently fondling Darren Criss’s … well, we’ll just go with pectorals ... and I was disoriented, lying in my bed, just coming back to consciousness. Suddenly, a dark shape whipped past my field of vision, along with the now familiar whooshing sound.

That’s weird, I thought hazily. If I was anywhere else but my room, I’d think that it was …

A bird! A bird is in my room! I realized, and I did the only thing befitting a heroic figure like myself.

It’s a funny thing, to be cowering under the blankets when you know there’s an airborne animal in your room, your only sanctuary in this hectic world. At first, I tried to convince myself I was incorrect in my analysis of the situation.

It’s a hallucination, I thought. Of course. It’s merely hypnagogic imagery, which is produced by the confused electrical synapses in your brain just before you fall asleep. Yeah. I did research on this stuff, I remembered. In college. When I was into lucid dreaming. That was cool stuff. (And definitely a subject for another article.)

Trippy ...

And then, I heard it.

The tweeting. And not the fun, LOL-bombs on your smart phone. I mean the actual definition.

There was no doubt about it. There was a motherf**ing bird in my motherf**ing room.

I pulled the covers down to peek, and my assailant immediately dive-bombed straight for me.

"Ahhh!" I screamed.

Okay, right … all that brain stuff happens before you fall asleep, not after you wake up, I remembered.

A bird! There’s really, really a bird in my room, like for total realsies! How the hell did a bird get in my room?

I realized two things. First, even though the world was one big smear without my contact lenses, I could tell all of my windows are closed.

Second, I realized I was naked, as is my wont when I'm sleeping. Naked, ironically, as a jaybird.

This was no way to do battle.

While all these thoughts were occurring to me, I noticed my nemesis has grown silent. Visually impaired, I looked around the room for a dark fuzzy shape that shouldn’t be there. Finally, I found it.

Okay, this is some hardcore geekery I’m about to drop on you guys, but it’s time I admitted something. Like all good-martial-arts-films-obsessed nerds, I own a samurai sword. It sits on a stand on top of my dresser, and though my vision was blurry, I could see that the bird had landed atop the very instrument that, on a good day, I would utilize to usher in its destruction.

Don't judge me don't judge me don't judge me ...

Your instrument is most impressive, it said to me, mockingly. We shall see who is the greater warrior.

I had met my match in this kamikaze bird, and I had no plan.