Everything, turn, turn, turn

My friend Chris is scared of birds. He attributes this to an early life viewing of Hitchcock’s “the Birds” which is, I’d say, about as good a reason as there is to be scared of birds. Birds can be scary. They say that birds are the closest living descendent of the dinosaurs, and they’re even rethinking whether or not the T Rexes and shit may not have actually been feathered rather than scaly. That’s a fucked up thought. It’s kind of like every idea I ever had about dinosaurs just got flamboyantly cross dressed. And as someone who’s grown up around it my entire life, I’ll tell you right now, that huge tranny in the feather boa is the best fighter in the room. Every time. So, yeah. I think that dinosaurs with feathers are even more terrifying. I’m just so used to the idea of dinosaurs as lizards, that I’ve traditionally had a lot of trouble getting this bird thing straight in my head. That is, until about five years ago, when I saw some birds that actually kind of looked like dinosaurs. And they were WAY fucking scarier than anything in ‘The Birds”,
Okay, so I’m in Frankfurt, Germany with my friend the bald toothless dwarf with barbed wire tattooed around his neck. Well, he’s not actually a dwarf, but he’s not that tall. He’s a pretty amazing guy, particularly to look at. He looks a lot like if a garden gnome snapped one day and said ‘fuck it’ and just kind of went all Travis Bickle or something. And he’s German. So there’s that whole tote bag of connotations too. Just sayin.
Anyway, he suggested we stop by this tattoo parlor to see his buddy. His buddy owned the tattoo shop. He was also (and this is the first of many things in this little anecdote that are, I swear, not made up) at the time, and perhaps he still is, the number one ranked Thai kickboxer in all of Europe. Needless to say, he was a hulk. He was happy to see my buddy and suggested we crash at his house. This sounded okay. I don’t exactly recall the details of what happened next, but it was generally that we got Thuringers in the Frankfurt Christmas market (which is one of the great Christmas markets in Germany), we made fun of a guy who was wearing leather pants and a designer jacket and had frosted hair who was panhandling (I believe we said, ‘uh, sell your pants’) then met up with the kickboxer when the tattoo shop closed. OH! We also checked out some brothels (which are legal in Germany) and saw a guy shooting heroin into his dick in a phone booth. So, yeah. Good times.
Well, we get back to this guy’s house, and I don’t even know where to begin explaining what was going on there. His bathroom was set up for an extremely geriatric person, (who would occasionally emerge from one door, go into the bathroom and then float back…no idea who he was, I think someone’s dad, maybe) he had a bunch of boxing dummies and punching bags and shit, and some mats for you know, casual grappling and he had a girlfriend who not only looked like she could be in some very high end porn, but she was kind of dressed like she was currently in some very high end porn.
Now, this dude, as I said, was (perhaps still is) an internationally ranked athlete, and as such, he’s got some pretty serious fans. One of his fans is the king of Morocco, who had sent him some hash as a sign of appreciation. This hash was minted in the size and shape of a large Hershey bar, it bore the seal of the king, and it varied in color (depending on the bar) from a light forest green to white. If you’re not familiar with hash, it’s usually brown, black or dark, dark green. White hash is like the Chinese girl with green eyes from Big Trouble in Little China. “Woah.” One might say. “That’s unusual.”
Okay, so everyone begins to relax and smoke a little, when all of a sudden, shit starts getting really freaky. Why? Oh, well, firstly, everyone is way too high, because the Moroccan king apparently doesn’t fuck around and secondly, and I don’t believe I haven’t mentioned this up until now, this dude had 250 IRANIAN FIGHTING COCKS in VARIOUS PENS AND CAGES ALL OVER HIS LIVING ROOM!
These things were about two and a half feet high and they were fucking nasty looking. They had black feathers (kind of like the white hash, or the green eyes, it’s a real denotation of strange shit being afoot) and huge beaks and fucking talons…jesus. They were insane. There was a little incubation table where the new ones were hatching and then there were all these fucking crazy chickens, roosters, hell birds, whatever, just FUCKING EVERYWHERE. So, put yourself in my shoes. Not a regular ingester of cannabis, in a room with a bald toothless dwarf, the number one ranked thai kickboxer, his porno girlfriend some ghostly old man and a quarter of a thousand fighting cocks from Iran. Oh, and a big mean looking dog, who was actually very sweet.
Apparently, dude had smuggled the eggs into Germany and he was selling the birds (who looked like real asskickers) to various cockfighting circuits. I think the cockfighting may have been legal, but the Iranian birds were definitely not. Anyway, whatever. YOU tell the number one Thai kickboxer you disapprove of his hobby. See how that goes. Well, so he busted out the mats and showed us how to twist peoples heads off and shit by demonstrating on us. He was very insistent, ‘brazilliian jujitsu! It’s the best martial art in the world. No one can combat it.’ I believe it. He practically ripped my arm off with no effort at all.
Well, long story short, we watched some video channel all night that only played about five videos over and over again. One was a german rapper who wore a golden skull mask at all times and one was that “my neck, my back my pussy and my crack” song by that chick that makes the contestants of Flavor Of Love seem cosmopolitan. Ew. We slept in that room with all the birds. It was scary. Then he made us breakfast and told us about the murder/ suicide that his ex girlfriend’s dad just pulled on her mom at the grocery store. We didn’t believe him so he showed us the local paper. It had happened the week before. Oh, wait, he didn’t kill her, he blew off her legs and killed himself, sorry. It’s been five years.
SO…yeah, it was pretty strange. Birds, man. They’re fucking scary. Beliedat.