Saturday, June 18, 2011

its been coming for a long time

 Enough with the goddamn tucans. Do you know how hard it is to keep up with that shit. Im all out of tucan jokes, seriously guys. So for now on this blog is a metaphor for whatever i want it to be. Thats the escapade of a tucan. By the way im completely aware its spelled toucan.

Friday, June 10, 2011

moving out

 Living in the ghetto may be taking a toll on me. Me and the other tucans have taken to just sitting on the porch smoking newport cigarettes. I still cant get a legitimate job and day day owes the ice cream man money for weed again. But beyond that this house wasn't cutting it anymore. It seems that my expectations for shelter ran quite low, it seems now my interest specifically in a crackhouse was wildly misguided. I take full blame and will lead my remaining band of tucans to greener pastures.
 I felt like moses leading his band of jews across the desert for the promised land. It was hot as fuck out and we didnt know where we were going. The similarities were remarkable. Our promised land was suburbia and we were on our way. We had managed to fix our wings so that we could fly and i must say, the ghetto is much nicer from the sky. From there we could see the identical boxes of the suburbs. We were prepared for another hostile takeover of a house, but it turns out many houses were empty. Every street had a foreclosed house on it and they were ripe for the pickings.
 2374 ledgewood drive was my new home and if the bank had anything to say about it they could take it from my cold dead beak.

Monday, June 6, 2011

cleaning up

Now we have a closet full of hookers. Some of the tucans have been giving the said closet some colorful nicknames like pleasureville, and the herpes highway. Some of these bird have fallen victim to their own lust and now the ones with the silly nicknames. We call these birds the infected since before these jackasses tucans hadn't contracted such diseases. It only took us but twenty minutes to make the decision that they would be treated as zombies. As pertaining to the tucan zombie field guide, the infected were to be quarentined untill the appropriate plot twist develops. We stuck them in the closet, they did not protest.
 By now i realized my attempt at fixing the prostitution problem had greatly backfired. A choice few of my fellow tucans were part of the problem now and we still haven't disposed of any them. It turns out when you've been living in a pet shop all your life then your not prepared for things like this. I have considered burning the house down with them still in the closet, but our crackhouse is just so nice. So we dig a hole, we dig and we dig. Then we put the dirt back, the problem is solved, im fucking exausted.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

 The life of a tucan is hard, especially the life of a tucan living a life of crime. Thats like a double or even triple life, im not sure because the noble tucan cannot concern himself with trivial things like math. Crime on the other hand i can concern myself with. Ever since we aquired our swanky crack house ive noticed a few things. One there was a lot of coke left over from all those drug dealers i killed, and two their customers kept coming up to the door and asking for drugs. Its like they thought we were some kind of house specifically for them to get their crack. I dont know what gave them that idea but these are things i cant have around my crackhouse if im going to be building a criminal organization of tucans to fight crime.
 Another thing i noticed was all the prostitutes in our neighborhood. You would think they would go to a nicer area where people could afford to pay for sex, but i do not get human logic as the tucan has evolved past such things. None the less prostitutes were my first target as a crime fighter. I lured them into the house with promises of cocaine, pictures of cocaine, and the preconcieved notion that there would be cocaine in a crackhouse. Once in the house we trapped the hookers in the closet using some bait and a complex system on string to close the door on them. Locks are not necessary because like raptors, prostitutes cant open doors. It was the perfect plan.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Moving in

 Three days have passed and all of the quail are dead. We found a george forman grill so we decided to eat the them. They were as tastey as they were futile and i regret nothing. This has left us with the quail's lair which was just a hallowed out log in the trees. This has come in handy while we adjust but we must move on. If we're going to be fighting crime we have to get to the source of it, the ghetto. In fact ive been contemplating leasing a crack house of late but my credit is aweful. Therefore the only option left to me is to take a crack house by force. There were a few to choose from as the pet store was in a rather bad part of town. We made quick work of the recon and picked out a perfectly fine crackhouse, the windows were boarded up and there were already a few colorful charicters hanging around.
 As we came through the door the room went silent. Its not every day a group of tucans bust down your door but these people had the pleasure. The pleasure was to be ours though as we had some badass shit up our sleves. The situation was critical and i had to do something quick. They came over to shoo us out and i pulled out my blade and cut that son of a bitch. They were so shocked they couldnt move, i stood on the table and began to tell them. If anybodys got beef then bring the ruckus, wu-tang clan aint nothing to fuck with. The strangest thing happened next, they respected me for it, i still had to kill them but i had their respect. My blade was cold and swift, they went down as easy as quail.
 Their crackhouse and all its contents were now mine, and my life of crime was off to a good start. Me and my fellow tucan had a shifty trap house in the bad part of town and this was basically a massacre. It struck me that i had set out to fight crime and have commited a very large share of it in my short time away from that shop. I must remember to fight crime with my crime, and before i forget RIP to the ol dirty bastard. Also RIP all the former inhabitants of my house.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

sweet ecstacy

 Freedom. We cross through the doorway and feel the warm sun on our faces. Not since the fabled day our kind arrived at the pet store has anyone felt the warm embrace of real sunshine. This was a glorious day for tucans everywhere. But we could not let our gaurds down just yet. At the moment we were traveling down the street on foot in pack formation, which in suburban America is quite unusual.
 The other birds are noticing us and again i am surrounded by pricks. We have been left flightless after having our wings clipped in what the old man said was a hair cut. The eight block journy was both exausting and humiliating but we eventually happened upon quails. The lowly quail is forever subject to being flightless so they feel our pain. As small and as tastey as they may be they are very hospitable birds. This may very well be their undoing if we can find the proper cooking utensils, but for the time being at least tonight we have a place to lay down our beaks and rest.
 We must decide what to do with ourselves on the outside. Theres not much oppertunity out there for a tucan. We see that KFC is hiring but the irony might litterally kill us in that case. Some of us know how to weld but the unions discriminate on the colored beaked birds. It seems that the only door thats wide open for a tucan these days is crime. But us tucans are pure, like the cold russian turnip. So we are destined to fight such evils, with the only resource availible to us. Crime. We must fight crime with crime , i may need another gun..

Saturday, May 28, 2011

the great breakout

0900 hours the old man opens the store. We've been waiting for this day for weeks, or months, maybe even years. Tucans do not have a good sense of time, but we are resiliant like the cold russian turnip. Today we shall prevail or die trying. Well we probably wont die but i am ready for that enevitable possibility, like the cold russian turnip.
 The old man does not check on us as usually so he does not notice that our crafty tucan engeneers have disassembled the back of our cage. We wait the optimal time to break as the old man feeds the feeble mouse to that asshole of a snake. He's always a pretentious douchbag just because he can eat everyone, that was untill the old man stocked some crazy ass mongooses. That snake tried to talk some shit and the mongosses ate their children. We all thought they were just joking around but they actually did it. Ever since then the snake has been an emotional wreck and its been really akward for everyone.
 So us tucans decided to break out. Nobody else in the store knows it but as soon as this grandmother taking her dirty little kids to come hold the hamsters comes through that door we will fly like we were meant to fly. And alas the opertunity has come upon us and we make the leap. If only we had known that son of a bitching old man had clipped our wings. We made it about half way there till we all hit the ground as a pack. Every animal in the store was laughing at us but we would not let this stop us. Because we are resiliant like the cold russian turnip so we hobbled our way out of that store and down the street to freedom. Chase was given but i was packing my piece so the old man did not get very far. The children were spared but that cannot be said for their grandmother.
 Rest in peace Patty...