Tribute to Little Stevie.

Terribly, terribly sad.

Today, outside of my art teacher's house, there was a little birdie just sitting there. At first, everyone thought it was a poor, baby bird who has lost his mama; nope, not a baby bird, but a dying bird. I told my teacher that I'll take him home since I know vet in my neighborhood. I wanted to go straight home, but my mom wanted to buy shoes (see last post). When we finally got into the car, Stevie was dead. We buried him in of Irvine's Kohl's parking lot, near the gas station. I nearly cried. I've only known him for 2 hours.

P.S. I don't even know the sex of little Stevie. We just assume he was a boy; Stevie seemed like a comforting name for him.

P.P.S. I have photos of little Stevie on his deathbed... but I don't think anybody want to see a dying bird... if you do, I advise you to see a pyschologist.

P.P.P.S. On a comforting note, I did get a pair of white Converse. I wanted these very gorgeous looking, black, strappy heels, but my mom just wouldn't cave...