“Daily Schedule of a Homeless Alcoholic Bird Feeder in Paris,” by Scott Oglesby

Nov 10th, 2010 | By | Category: Fake Nonfiction, Prose

7:15 Wake up refreshed and exuberant, ready to make sweet love to the promising day laid out like a beautiful woman before you. Know that you are gong to earn a pauper’s fortune by persuading ambrosial, flirty, delicate birds to eat out of your hands while allowing tourists to take pictures. You were born for this shit! 

7:20 Urinate in alleyway. Realize that you aren’t going to make it until 9:00 when the public restrooms open.

7:22 Defecate in alleyway. Kick some garbage on top of it. God damn that was some nasty, repulsive shit. 

7:30 Clean up your encampment. Finish off the last of the delightful Beaujolais Nouveau that you lucked upon last night. Decide that there is still some magic and mystery left in this world after all. Have a smoke.

7:55 Take a leisurely morning stroll along the Seine, socializing and gossiping with your peers. Enjoy some fine Moroccan hash, remembering to puff, puff, pass, and wash that heavy shit down with a mighty merlot with an aggressive yet luscious bouquet. Amuse your contemporaries with an anecdote concerning your morning’s constitutional and a clever Nicolas Sarkozy reference. 

8:45 Pick up jacket and undershirts from Homeless Junkie Laundry Guy who washes garments in the fountain for heroin money. 

9:00 Being sure to be the first customer of the day, purchase a bag of salted peanuts, a pack of smokes, a six-pack of beer and a pint of vodka. Don’t forget the motherfucking birdseed! 

9:40 Reserve your spot outside of Notre Dame where the tourists are most likely to part with their coinage by spreading your work materials all over ‘your’ bench. Smile crazily and swear quietly at anyone who even thinks about sitting down near ‘your’ bench. 

9:50 Take another quick piss in the alleyway. Maybe have just one pull off of your pint. Remind yourself to take that shit slow, you don’t need a repeat of last Friday’s performance. You need to make good money today. Daddy, literally, needs a new pair of shoes.   


10:23 Smoke and beer break! Count the money. You’re doing well; close to 20 Euros in 40 minutes. You earn doctor or lawyer money! You have to love those hungry ass birds. You need to keep this momentum up. Take quick pull off the vodka. 

11:48 Out of supplies. Beer and bird seed run! Why not pick up another pint of vodka? It’ll help you tolerate the miserable, fuckwad tourists and stupid ass birds. 

11:15 Ok, back to the business at hand; getting paid for feeding these shitty birds! Is life good? Fuck yea! 

11:25 Smoke and drink break! Count money again. Take a healthy swig of vodka. It’s getting cold, you need it.  

11:45 Back to work baby! 

12:11 Realize you haven’t eaten in 24 hours. Time to grab a baguette! 

12:30 Enjoy your lunch break and take a little nap. 

3:47 Oh shit, long nap. Better feed the birds like a motherfucking champion now to make up for lost wages. Take a few healthy gulps of vodka first. Notice that the bottle is almost empty. Shit. Time to re-up! 

4:30 We’re in business now! Taking money of these ugly, stupid fuckers is easier than getting shitty, little, ugly ass birds to eat out of your hands. 

4:40 Observe that there are substantially less birds, which amounts to less tourists, gathered around you. Where are the infectious, revolting beasts? Loudly repudiate and curse remaining birds and tourists.      

4:45 Notice rival, Homeless Alcoholic Bird Feeder feeding birds out of his hands while posing for photos for the loathsome, repulsive tourists. That ugly, fastidious bird feeding fucker is stealing your business!    

4:45 Take a few wild swings at your pompous, ostentatious rival. Connect with at least one punch and congratulate yourself even as you receive hard punches about the face, chest and stomach. Allow the fisticuffs to be broken up by Homeless Alcoholic Sketch Artist and Homeless Crackhead Lute Player. Storm off amidst an obscenity laced tirade. That fucker was lucky! 

4:50 Saunter back to your encampment to avoid acquiring a bad reputation.     

4:55 Sit drinking and smoking in the refuge of your cardboard stronghold. Create and nurture, as only a drunken psyche can, various nefarious plans for the defeat and humiliation of your corpulent rival, which will guarantee continued reign of supremacy as the undisputed, premier Homeless Alcoholic Bird Feeder! 

5:13 Pass out. 

5:58 Piss yourself. 

8:24 Wake up. Good, there’s a little vodka left! Change pants. 

8:55 Run to the store to procure your nightly vodka. Hurry before they close! Realize that there are only a few coins left over from the day’s profit. Curse that fat fuck again. Curse those fucking birds again. Settle on a bottle of the cheap stuff. God damn it burns. 

9:22 Aggressively petition some bastard fucker tourists for their spare change, get ignored, curse loudly and spit at the ground violently.  

9:23 Realize that fate can be a finicky bitch. Loudly curse those fucking birds. 

9:55 Pass out. Dream of dead birds.  


Scott Oglesby lives in Southern Spain with his wife, large cat, large dog, and tiny, tiny, almost rat-like dog, and is trying desperately to hold on to his shiny, overpriced dreams. His life is pretty much all smoke, mirrors and subterfuge. 

He authors a semi successful (as long as your definition of success doesn’t have anything to do with earning money or actual success) blog at http://zodiblog.wordpress.com/ and is inappropriately proud of this minor accomplishment. You can also find him on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=799494719 if you happen to be into that sort of thing.

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