The actual birds of truth

A few weeks ago, I interviewed a driver on the sidewalk about a crash he was in. After about a minute, I could tell he hadn’t put in much thought into his story because it was full of shit.

He tried to be creative and blamed a phantom car, but his story lacked imagination, style and most importantly, the truth. He was also trying to Jedi Mind Trick a Jedi Master.

Silly guy.

It was one of those interviews where I took notes and shook my head as I imagined saying, “Sure, I write fiction too.”

In the middle of his horrible and fictional story, the truth gods smiled down on us as a grayish liquid splattered on his dark polo shirt. He looked at his left shoulder as a moment of awkward silence hung in the air like a thick fog.

I then looked up and saw a bunch of birds on the power lines above us.  It was as if my winged friends had heard his story and decided to help me out with a little truth serum of their own.

The moment reminded me of the movie High Anxiety when Mel Brooks ran through the park as dive bombing pooping birds unleashed on him.

Mel Brooks in High Anxiety.  Photo by cbsnews.com

I took my phone out as the driver curiously watched, wondering what I was doing. I pointed my phone up toward the birds and snapped a pic because this was just too good to pass up.

I moved away from the sidewalk and finished my interview. I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire when the rest of the birds opened up on the driver.

You just can’t make this stuff up.