Rule Breakers, Trouble Makers and the road to hell....

I have a rule. 

Well, I have a few rules and most of these can pretty much be covered by the simple principle of using your manners. 
There are exceptions such as, remembering that people are human and killing people is bad manners even if they are really annoying and/or steal your favourite pushbike and/or are a Bangalow real estate agent. 

My rules are pretty strict, as my son would attest, as he now is doing the opposite of all my stringent rules, flamboyantly and with exuberance. 

Some of my rules are because I am a bleeding heart liberal. 
For example…
Don’t call people names because it hurts. 
Don’t be mean to homeless people because.. well because I am one.. and it sucks.
and don’t put animals in cages because that is cruel.

Especially birds. 

Last month, Miss hypocrite here, broke her rule. 

You see, in my work there are lots and lots of lovely, lonely old people who ostensibly are in cages themselves because they have dementia and are in aged care homes.

I really feel sorry for my lovlies and I ponder deeply and often about how I can help them. 
So I come up with lots of weird and wonderful schemes to make their lives better. 

It’s my job so please don’t think I’m some kind of saint.. No, wait till this sorry tale has ended and then you will be able to judge me a little more honestly. 

There’s there’s this one bloke who lives in a country town in Buttfuckville that I see weekly when I am touring out in Buttfuckville, he is very isolated and doesn’t engage with the other lovelies and just sits in his room all day feeding the rat like birds through his screen door.

So what do I decide to do? 

I break my rule. I think what this man needs is a bird of his own, maybe two so they don't get lonely.
After all, I need to try and break my rule as humanely as I can.

So I find a cage and plonk two zebra finches in the prison of love and drive 2 days to give them to him. 
All the while keeping them alive and ignoring the dead feeling of putting these poor birds in cages.
I enter the room, he seems quite happy, if a little underwhelmed and in his usual sardonic and gruff style says, 

‘I was hoping for budgies.’

I explain Canberra has smuggled in most of the budgies, so there is a short supply. 
He rolls his eyes and says ‘I suppose they’ll do’ 

I leave feeling like Mother Theresa and I even get a certificate of appreciation from my work. 
This feeling has floated me over some jagged rocks since, I have even given my self a little pat on the back in quiet corners and said 
'Ilona, you are such a goood person'

A few days ago my colleague calls me for a work handover and I can't help but boast a little and tell him of my small achievement. 

‘Oh yeah, about that’ he says ‘Um, not sure if you know but the birds died 2 days after you gave them’ 


‘Yes, both dead’


I start laughing like a demented clown and all I have in my head is the Dead Parrot Monty Python skit and a dark comedic tragic reminder not to ever break my rules.
or maybe not to have as many..

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