Sunday, February 24th, 2002: I think I'm a murderer. I don't know how I've turned into such a person. It's the last thing I've ever think to label myself, yet here it is, the day I've become a cold-blooded murderer. Sad days...

It started out as a normal Sunday with me waking up around 11:30 am. My Sundays are typically the day I get to catch up on sleep, hence the late wake up time.
I went through my normal routine of brushing my teeth, making my bed, having lunch, catching up on a couple of shows I had on tape form the past week, checking to see if there's any sports on the tube, deciding to head to the mall for something, though I can't remember what it was now because I'm currently writing this entry weeks after the date stated above.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary there, aside from it being kinda cold out, even though it was sunny and clear.
I hopped into the car and made my way to the mall using the regular route I usually take.
Once I got to the mall parking lot, I had to negotiate my way past the usual 50-60 pigeons/seagulls that gather in the same spot everyday. I particularly remember how they were all huddled together and not moving much due to the cold, so it made travelling past them rather easy, or so I thought.

As I approached, a couple of pigeons got nervous or something, not a normal reaction by them in comparison to the past, and suddenly jumped in front of my car. I couldn't swirve because that would result in me hitting a parked car, so I did the only thing I could, which was brake to a sudden stop.

It was too late...

The unfortunate pair of pigeons didn't make it out alive as I hit them.
The sad part about that is that the first reaction I had after getting out the car was to see if there was damage done to the front grill of the car instead of seeing if the pigeons were alive.
I've never been fans of pigeons because they've always found a way to completely annoy me in the past. Incidents range from the innocent pigeon poop on the car, especially after just washing the car, to the vast amounts of poop on our balcony that required scrubbing to get out, to the outrageousness of them entering my apartment years ago and huddling under the heating radiator overnight, resulting in freaking out my brother the next morning and requiring my mom to physically capture them and throwing their sorry butts out the balcony door.
Thinking back to that makes me kinda laugh, but still, it was those evil pigeons!

So, back to reality...I was standing there, looking at all that carnage and realizing I was a murderer...a cold-blooded murder! All I could do was look to the heavens, stretch my arms up as far as I could and scream "nooooooooooooooooooooooo".

I came to my senses two minutes later and drove off, leaving the dead birds behind.

Am I going to hell for this??