yesterday while driving i saw the bird - the bluebird of happiness - as it bounced off the windshield of a neighboring vehicle. the bird looked not so much happy as surprised. i thought the bird might still be alive, so i swerved to miss it. in my rear view i saw a car spin 360 degrees and come to a stop. since i thought it would provide more time to gawk at the wounded bird, i stopped and pretended to care about the young woman in the car. for such occasions i always keep long stemmed roses on ice in the trunk. as i approached the young lady, i produced the flowers from behind my back. to my surprise, she had something for me as well - the bird. she explained that she spun her car so she could catch the bird in her open rear window.
then something terrible happened, she bit the bird in half. when i asked her why she did that, she said that she only did what i wasn't man enough to do. i asked why the bird had to die and she told me not to be such a girl. then i realized that i was just making all this crap up and i was really very secure in my masculinity which is why i can write such things.
needless to say (but i will) there never was a bluebird of happiness, it was actually blue because it was a blue word, and it was a bird because you can't be heard from one car to another. of course, after having been severed the blue was forgotten, but everyone saw plenty of red.