My father is not a violent man

I was at home - at my parents' house, that is. While I was out of the house, apparently a bird had laid six eggs somewhere in the microwave in the kitchen, and the heat from the microwave incubated the eggs until one day they hatched.



The birds haphazardly flew around the house. It was chaotic. I was trying to figure out how to get them out when I walked into the room and saw my father with a rifle over his shoulder. Right as I walked in, he shot one of the birds. It stopped in mid flight and hung suspended in the air as all of it's feathers exploded in slow motion and left the flesh raw. I looked on in horror and started yelling at my dad. I later found out that he had shot all six, one over my bed so that a jumble of feathers and blood was left on the bedspread.