So, in the harsh chill of early morning, some idiot bird smashes beak-first into the side of a ten story building and drops, listlessly to the sidewalk below, where it lays, stunned, all but certain to die.

But, somehow, it doesn’t.

Through some miraculous twist of fate, it clings to its meaningless life just long enough for three (equally idiotic) humans from my office to discover its dwindling-corpse on their way to smash beak-first into a box of donuts.

Putting their glossy heads together, these three mongoloids decide that they cannot conceivably allow this broken-winged simpleton to simply pass on. “No,” they bellow from beneath pillowy, crumb-coated jaws, “we must save it!” A noble endeavor, to be certain.

Scooping the crumpled pocket of bacteria into a rough wad of paper towels, and ignoring the basic responsibilities of their employment, the tard-triplets rush the fading creature to a local animal emergency room, which, by happenstance, is also a veterinary college.

“Save this bird,” they squeal, as if at the height of their own self-righteous orgasms. “Dammit, doctor, there’s no time!”

Confused and unimpressed, first responders humor the mentally-deficient three, pretending to rush the wild, over-populated bird into surgery at the expense of legitimate animals and actual emergencies. The odds are stacked against the poor invalid, but doctors are doing everything they can, rest assured. The three leave, hoping against hope that they got there in time. Hoping that perhaps a higher power is on their side.

When they get around to it, the triumvirate returns to the office, to the scene of the trauma. They are met with a heroes welcome… that they give themselves between enthusiastic pats on the back. While those around them toil and grind at their pitiless jobs, the magnificent three stare to the icy heavens, to the billowing clouds, knowing that today, they saved a life. They are lifesavers. They save.

In the depths of their soul they know that should the mighty bird pull through, should the college student operating on it with the expressed intent of developing experience for real-life emergencies succeed, then someday that bird will return to the skies.

Someday, mended, it shall take majestic flight amongst the clouds, where it will be free to soar, to live, to smash its idiot face into a giant fucking inanimate object once again.

And it will. Which is why we must be vigilant. Always vigilant.