The Pigeons Debate Their Diets

"Um...are you going to eat that?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
"I mean...yeah."
"Okay."
"Is that...bad?"
"I mean...well...yes, it is, but if you're going to do it any--"
"It's on the ground."
"I know."
"A person threw it on the ground."
"Yeah, I saw that."
"That means we eat it."
"Okay."
"What do you mean 'okay?'"
"I mean--'Okay'--so eat it."
"Are you going to eat it?"
"Nooooooo."
"Why not?"
"Becausssssse."
"Becausssssse why?"
"Because it fell on the ground."

. . . . .

"That's how we get it."
"Well..."
"That's how we get our food.  It goes on the ground and we eat it."
"Yeah, but..."
"But what?  There is no other way.  Either the human food falls on the ground or they toss it to us, but either way, the ground is a mandatory part of the whole procedure."
"And you don't think it's...gross?"
"No!  ...I mean--No!"
"But I mean, we walk on the ground.  Our feathers fall on the ground.  We...do...other stuff on the ground.  And then we eat off it?"
"There's no other way!"
"The humans don't eat off the ground!"
"Sometimes they do.  Sometimes I'll notice a human drop something, then look around to make sure nobody's looking, and then eat what was dropped."
"And do you ALSO notice the other humans gagging when they see someone do that?"
"We all have to eat!"
"Why can't we go to a restaurant?"
"Because we're pigeons!"
"I'm sorry, but I can no longer continue to eat food that's not safe."
"What do you mean 'not safe?'  The humans eat it?"
"If it was safe, why would they throw it on the ground?"
"IT FALLS!  IT FALLS ON THE GROUND...most of the time."
"It's because of carbs."
"What?"
"Bread."
"What about bread?"
"They always throw us bread.  And the other day, I heard them talking.  Bread means carbs and carbs means baaaad.  I heard a bunch of women talking about that while they were eating their lunch."
"What were they eating?"
"It looked like pencil shavings on top of sewer sludge."
"That sounds awful!"
"It can't be!  They looked fantastic!"
"LOOK!  I'm a PIGEON!  I do not have a long or fulfilling life ahead of me.  People hate me.  I'm a nuisance.  By my NATURE, I'm a NUISANCE!  All I have in this world are whatever crumbs are thrown to me.  Now I realize that you may find fault in that somehow, but keep in mind, IT'S ALL I HAVE!"

. . . . .

"I'm sorry."
"It's fine."
"No, really--"
"I SAID it's fine."
"Okay."
"Okay."

. . . . .

"If you did go to a restaurant, where would you go?"
"Somewhere with nice tables."
"Tables?"
"And tablecloths.  Candles.  Some music.  A place where they really treat you nice, you know?  Where they don't shoo you away?"
"Oh...Yeah, I...Yeah.  I know the places you mean."
"I'd like to eat somewhere like that."
"Yeah."
"I'd like to eat somewhere where they make you feel...wanted."
"Yeah...I guess I'd like that too."