Miss. Princess Pants And The Eggs

Mr. Fussy Pants (my boss) came to work in a particularly "fowl" mood last Tuesday. It seems that he and Mrs. Pants, had planned a Memorial Day Celebration poolside, at Southfork Ranch. Not the Southfork of "Dallas" fame, but his own Southfork.( the estate he financed with the sweat from my brow). Apparently, the soirée was to include down home Bar-B-Que lovingly prepared by Fussy for his guests.

In preparation for the big event, Mr. Fussy Pants was disinfecting the pool deck, and sterilizing the outdoor kitchen area, (I think I have mentioned his little germ phobia before) when he discovered that a pair of freeloading Robins had taken up residence inside his state of the art; spare no expense; give me all the bells and whistles; if it doesn't cost a fortune I don't want it; Bar-B-Que grill. Not only had they feathered their nest inside the holy grill, they had been engaging in hot, wild, red breasted, birds and bees type activities that produced four trademark Robin Blue Eggs.

Fussy is not prone to sentiment. In his opinion, everyone should know that birds are dirty, disgusting creatures, that make messes, and carry disease. Without hesitation, he reached for the Weber lighter fluid, with the intention of incinerating the nest, and its lovely blue occupants.

Mr. Pants did not account for two things. One, was the mother bird, who upon seeing Fussy in the vicinity of her soon to be offspring, dive-bombed him like a kamikaze on a suicide mission. The second, was the arrival on the scene of Miss. Princess Pants, Fussy's eight-year-old daughter. One look at the enchanting blue orbs, and Miss. P was in love. Fussy is a tough guy, but this bird and her four blue eggs took him down... with a little help from a Princess.

By my calculations, the grill should be available for use sometime after the Fourth of July. Just in time for Martin nesting season.

Out-T.