The time I lost a bird in my house.

This is said bird.

A few weeks ago my roommate and his fiancée came inside and we're chatting normally, then he asks out of the blue for "a tupperware we don't use anymore" and I am immediately suspicious. I had no idea how right I was to be so. I gave him one we'd lost the lid to and he marched outside for some unknown reason. That reason was to bring a stunned wild bird into the kitchen. 

If that's not a bad idea I don't know what is. 

Since the bird didn't resist him picking it up and generally wasn't moving, we just put a paper plate over it with something heavy on it and let it warm up and gather it's senses. Then Roommate and fiancée go to Kroger for something or other, leaving me with the bird on the counter, blinking at me.

Of course, what do I do? Decide it should have some bread. What should happen when I lift the top? EXPLOSION OF BIRD AT MY FACE. I, of course, screamed and lost sight of the bird after it smacked into the wall and fell somewhere. I spent the next 5-10 minutes looking for the god-damned bird all over my apartment. Even upstairs. Because, you know, birds can fly. No success. Finally I opened the door hoping it would see the light and go for it. I was right. When on my next round of frantic "oh god there is a bird in my house" searching I moved the door, it flapped up again and landed on the screen door. Screaming a little again, I slowly opened the screen door and shoo-ed it out - it promptly flew right across the lawn straight into the neighbor's window and fell into a bush. What the hell. When Roommate and fiancée returned and I told them the story, he said something to the effect of "fuck it, that bird is suicidal. Darwin." 

Psh. And he wouldn't let me bring the poor friendly cute cat in the house but he'll bring in a crazed suicidal bird? Where, I ask you, is the fairness in that?