An Open Letter To The Bird Who Pooed On My Rig At Target

Dear Bird,

I have no idea what kind of bird you are, or why, of all the cars in the Target parking lot, you chose mine to poop on.

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I'm still trying to figure out the message from the universe. Is it, go into Target, get your CO2 and leave?  Because I surely got caught up in the wonderment that is Target.  Can someone really go in there and just go to the service desk, exchange CO2 bottles and leave?  I found myself looking at purses, pajamas, socks and towels.  I walked out of there with new socks and new towels, even though I really only NEEDED the CO2 for my Soda Stream.

Is it that everything is random and anything can happen at any second?

Or, is it just one of those things that out of the hundred or so cars in that area, that you pooed on my tiny red SUV and no other cars?  (I'm leaning toward this reason, but that's no fun, really.

I will admit, I was pissed at first, filled with rage and one word, why?  Why me bird? Why my cute little red SUV over all of the great big SUV's that were in the parking lot?

I know you brought about $25 worth of business to Fast Car Wash because your dedication, I mean deification, wasn't just on my windshield.  You managed gross little yellow drops all over my car that windshield wiper fluid couldn't take away.

Wherever you are today, little pooping bird, I'll be thinking of you and wondering of all the little red SUV's in Great Falls, you chose mine to poop on.