The Falconer

The other night, we heard a noise in our parking area. We were almost asleep at that point, but Mr. Hed ran over to the window to see what it was. He's a little doberman-like, and for good reason. We have had a few car break-ins since moving in here, so there are times when it's a good idea to just do that.

Of course, this time, along with every other time we have looked out there, it was nothing, and soon we were asleep. Still, though; we know better than to leave anything unlocked anymore. All cars are in view of our window, so we can jump up at the slightest sound and check things out in true paranoid, usually unnecessary fashion. We aren't always dressed, but we are badass enough that it hardly matters. We will still kick your ass if we catch you.

Be warned.

I keep a garden hoe next to the bed. Hey, that could fuck a person up! And guess what? I know how to use it! Yes. Several gangs tried to get me to join 'cause I'm pretty good with that thing.

Despite the fact that this time the noise was not coming from our yard, I was asleep... not very long and awoke from a freaky dream about a flying attack Chihuahua at a child's birthday party. No joke. This thing was across the room, then suddenly, it was eating my face. I don't recommend that sensation, even in mere brain wave form. No. No, I don't. It still makes me shudder slightly. Is there such a thing as dream-induced PTSD? Am I crazy?

Don't answer that last one.

I had to wake Mr. Hed and tell him about this.

He said he wouldn't mind having something not unlike the dog for the parking area outside, since we still occasionally find evidence from unwanted guests out there in the morning. We never really know when this is happening, because we are in the middle of town, and there is a lot of activity in our general vicinity at all times. It's very frustrating, but we will be putting up a spiky wrought-iron fence and gate soon, and hopefully that will help.

Mr. Hed said that in the meantime, he wouldn't mind training an eagle, crow, or falcon to attack unwanted people. The bird could perch high upon a branch in one of our cedar trees out of view from the entrance, and stealthily swoop down, pecking the culprit about the head and face until they run away, screaming.

I would name it Adolph, and say things like: "Adolph: eat eyes."

Or... maybe a Komodo Dragon. They eat less than dogs. I think you just have to feed it a goat like every three months or so. And they are pretty badass. They will fuck your shit up! They may not be poisonous, but damn, they are grody. I think the inside of their mouths probably smells like a combination of garbage, ass, and man-pit... and would give you one hell of an infection if they merely bite you, and don't decide you are goatalicious.

I would name him Tim. Tim The Fucking Dragon.

Mr. Hed may be onto something.

-H