As is common knowledge to many readers, I reside in a rented house near my college along with some other friends. Now being all students was bad enough, but being all males students, we really don't give a fig about cleanliness and stuff. In fact, I always fancied us as some kind of a spin-off Addams family (Just between you and me, we sort of celebrated the birth of two young ones of the 'friendly neighbourhood' cockroaches that inhabit our washbasin). I guess it has something to do with the deep-seated need to associate ourselves with someone or something popularly recognisable, but whatever.
Now cockroaches, ants, spiders, lizards etc. were kinda okay, not because they were favourite pets of Morticia Addams or something, but because they are argumentatively omnipresent. I mean you can't find a house absolutely free from them! But what really drove the last nail was when I found a live pigeon stylishly perched among the bits and pieces of the mock kitchen we have in here. After a bit of shooing and prodding we concluded that it is either extremely lethergic or is actually unable to fly and as we are not in a state of war with any pigeon state (known or unknown), we have allowed it to retain its current quarters albeit temporarily, as I am sure none of us plans to allow the hitchhiker to litter the place with shit. In such an event, it will immediately be shown the door, or in this case, the roof.
So to conclude ladies and gentlemen, as I write this piece, it has been about three hours since its arrival and our guest is nicely tucked and asleep.