The angry mob of Pigeons, 13 at last count, seemed too many to challenge; Pedro took flight. There seemed an imbalance in nature in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. the Face of Everyman pondered that conundrum.
Those dreadful summer games had begun in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. The Stinkin’ Pigeons had started their rude behavior. Was this the end of the Face of Everyman?
It seemed a sure sign of Spring in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa as the denizens began pairing up. the Face of Everyman made note in the guest register: Birds noted kissing.
Then one day a curious thing happened, a Pigeon appeared in the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa. It had been so long since one had been seen that the Face of Everyman couldn’t believe his eyes. He made an immediate pigeon census report.
Once again, the Face of Everyman was reminded of his failures in genetics. Beneath the surface of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa in his secret underground lab. where he attempted to create a truly white pigeon. Now, the whole world could see his failure.
Three couples had signed-up for the square dance class; more like six dim blubs. The Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa prided itself on activities. the Face of Everyman made his calls clearly; but, to no avail.
A day after the Pigeon Census Report was submitted, the Flock arrived. Now perhaps ten or eleven pigeons were alive and well. The annual budget for the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa would surely suffer with the under count but over supply of voracious birds. A conundrum for theFace of Everyman.
the Face of Everyman couldn’t remember the last time that he’d filed a Pigeon Census Report; no one had questioned the blank months. Maybe the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa was no longer relevant.