And further more, everyone else around you, too.

I know why the mocking bird laughs at you. Yes, he's pathetic and has nothing better to do, but you're sitting there, an easy target. It's summer, early afternoon and you're behind the house, resting on the wooden platform of the shed your father built to hide the suburban things he didn't want your mother knowing about, namely a motorcycle.

While you sit there, smoking and creating a smell that disturbs the insects beneath you as much it does your neighbors, a squirrel crosses you. It's a stand-off and after several minutes you're over it. Forsaking every Henry-David-Thoreauic thing inside of you, you start kicking your feet against the platform in an effort to make it known that you are done communicating with nature, and that's when nature calls you out on your shit.

At first it's a guttural call of one bird that gets your attention, but then it's followed by the sing-song taunt of another. HaHa!

You are absolutely peculiar to them.