Yesterday I walked to my local park around noon to escape the little woman's nagging. There I sat on a bench with a distinguished looking older gentleman who was eating his lunch and who had a bag of peanuts with him. I quickly recognized him from newspaper photos as City Judge O'Brien. But just as I began to speak to him, we were interrupted by what was on the grass in front of us: two large pigeons---slowly and cautiously, it seemed---approaching O'Brien.
Now I swear that the following is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth: In a high but clear voice one pigeon said, "Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor."