Today, In Front Of a Masonic Temple, I Was Struck In The Back Of the Head by a Wayward Pigeon

Today, in front of a Masonic Temple, I was struck in the back of the head by a wayward pigeon. It happened across from the Canadian Tire gas station at the intersection of Davenport and Church and Yonge. The cute, rosy-cheeked woman in front of the cookbook store was handing out some sort of chocolate balls. She did not offer me any. She said I looked too much like trouble. Her breath left her lips in plumes. The plumes looked like afternoon cloud-cover. Next, she said that she was through with guys like me; guys whose heads attracted errand attacks from above. I said I was a lowly man, a man who knew his station, a man who just wanted to get to Tim Horton's. She said that Tim Horton's was that way. Then she pointed in ‘that way’. I used the last of my birthday money to purchase a decorative spittoon from a nearby Pottery Barn. I then placed the brass object upon my head, and I walked on. I entered Tim Horton’s and bought a 20-pack of chocolate Timbits. I tried to pay in Canadian Tire money, and the people behind the counter pelted me with pigeon feathers. I imagined that the feathers were tickertape. I ate 18 of my 20 Timbits on the walk home, and then I heaved the two remaining chocolate balls at the nearby Masonic Temple. The first Timbit struck the broad side of the Mason Temple. It broke through the only window. A bright light burst forth from the mangled window pane. The light reminded me of a child bursting through the double doors into a recess yard full of untouched snow. I heaved my last Timbit, and it completely missed the Masonic Temple. The errant Timbit zoomed right into the cloud-cover. I heard a wet thud, the sound of cursing, and then the skies began to rain rosy-cheeked women. I walked back home through puddles and puddles of rosy-cheeked women. They pretended not to see me, and I pretended not to see them.