Two birds burried under a bush

My Father, step-mom and step-grandmother are leaving tomorrow. 10 days of freedom. 10 days of having the entire house, not just the basement, to myself. 10 days of underwear sporting fun. 10 days with the 52inch tv. 10 days of internet worry free porn. It's almost too good to be true.

I am, however, a little freaked out. See, last year when they went to Belgium, everything was fine until about halfway threw the week. One of the budgies i'd given my folks a few years back, Sheldon to be more precise, dropped fucking dead. Which, to me anyway, wasn't that bad a thing, i mean how upset can you be over one less shit machine. Thankfully, at that time, my cousin was there, so i didn't have to touch dead bird. Although ever since then i'm pretty sure my stepmom thinks i'm a bird murderer, but hey you can't win em all right?

So this time, when my dad announced to me that they'd be leaving, I jokingly pointed to Booker, the remaining budgie, and said "YOU motherfucker! you better not die while they're away!"

The next day, and i shit you not, my dad knocked on my door and said:

Annie, you won't have to worry about feeding the bird while we're gone.

Why not?

Because the fucker laid 2 eggs and died this morning.

And now i'm afraid for my stepmom's cats. If one of those guys dies on me i'm fucked.