I fucking hate pelicans.

Two days after I bought me a brand new '97 Camero Z-28, I was doing the 500 mile break-in and decided to drive up to the San Mateo coast for a nice little blaze up sesh at that beach next to Pescadaro. I park my new baby and trot down to the beach. Three hours and far too many hits later, I stumble back to my car.

And there, on the freshly-waxed hood of my Poor Man's 'vette, is a gigantic green, dinner-plate sized, dead-fish reeking gelatenous birdshit. This thing was fucking epic, too. At first, I was pissed, then I kinda had a sense of admiration 'cause y'all don't see that kinda bird turd every day -- it was really a once-inna-lifetime experience -- but then I went back to being fucking furious when the breeze blew the stench of rotting fish in my direction and I knew I be smelling that shit all the way down Highway 1 and back over 17. Oh yeah, and it was as thick as a pancake, too, and it was bookin' no shit from the poor Mexican fuck with the power washer that I paid $10 to wash it off back in Mountain View.

I know a pelican did it, too. Pelicans got no sense of decency. That goddamn flying monstrosity took one look at my bitchin' Camaro and said, "Yup, you're fucked now Human!" I'm sure that feathered fucker was storing that guano up for a week, just waiting for some oblivious stoner to park his BRAND FUCKING NEW car in that particular spot so it could projectile shit all over the hood.

Goddamn pelicans.

I didn't care for these guys back in the day when I had a mullet and drove a 1979 brown Camero with hubcaps. That car almost ensured I'd remain a virgin through high school. Still, I can be nostalgic. *snif

Bet the camero has NOS stickers. That instantly adds +10 to speed and +2d6 to attack.