The Diary of an Angry Bird

Monday Horrible news arrived today: our eggs have been stolen. No huge surprise here, people have been stealing them for quite some time now. It's the culprit that boggles me: a malicious pack of angry green legless pigs who may or may not be retarded. Seems like a sick joke, really. We get it: we don't have wings and we're a bit vulnerable. But seriously? Malicious green legless pigs? I've seen some pretty weird shit in my time, but this is pretty high up on the "what the f*%k" list. To make matters worse, they are apparently building an elaborate obstacle course to get them back. How they're doing it without legs, I seriously have no idea. Honestly: it's like Stonehenge threw up on a wooden house frame out there. They've even got balloons like it's some sick and twisted 8 year old's birthday party.

To keep the flock alive, we don't really have a choice but to do something about it. We have a meeting a bit later to discuss how to move on from here, but one thing is clear…we're getting those f*%king eggs back.

Sorry for the sailor's mouth, it's just, I dunno…

I'm really f*%king angry.


To no surprise, we're going with the Mama bird's son's plan. I swear to God, a baby chick could have come up with better shit than this. Ready?

He wants to build a slingshot to launch ourselves off of. No, seriously, that's what our crack squad came up with. I guess we don't have wings, so lemonade out of lemons and all. But I mean…a slingshot? Really, guys? Hopefully we'll have an arsenal of helmets, but it doesn't seem like the plan was really thought out that far ahead.

I'm at a loss for words. I guess all I do is make weird noises, anyway, so that's not saying much. I have no choice but to report for duty tomorrow when our army assembles. I'm curious to see who I am to go to battle with.


We reported for duty this morning, and if this is what we're going out there with, my mind is seriously blown. Let me go through the chain of command to illustrate my concerns.

The Reds: Most of my family falls under this line. Basically, we're a tough crowd with pretty aggressive eyebrows. We don't have a lot of experience, but we're angry and we're willing to throw ourselves into whatever it takes. Modern day bird vikings, really.

The Yellows: They came from another village, and I've only heard rumors, but the verdict is out on them. Not exactly one for camouflage. They've got some speed, and seem to have a kamikaze mentality, but I'm a bit concerned about the fact that they seem to kind of bitch out when it comes to stone blocks. Great, guys. No problem, that's pretty much everything we're going up against. It's also a bit disconcerting that they are shaped like triangles, but Mom told me never to make fun of how people with deformities look.

The Blues: Freaky sons of bitches. I was about to talk some shit, but when one launched and split into three (!!) I had to show a little respect. They have a bit of a Napoleon complex (one wears a bunch of MMA fighter shirts with corny statements like "size DOESN'T matter" on them…awkward) but I'm proud to have them on my side.

The Black Ninjas: Pretty introverted, but apparently they come from some f*%ked up village where they are trained to kill themselves for honor. The girls are all swooning because they even have exotic ginger eyebrows, which I'm pretty sure should make you a social leper. OooOoOoO I'm a ninja bird. Gimme a f*%king break. Show-offs.

The Whites: We all laughed a bit when these walked in. Basically the poster children for bird obesity problems, and we're guessing all of them have diabetes...but they have explosive eggs. Which is both disgusting and weird, but could be a huge asset. If fatty wants to help the cause, I'm not gonna argue. Just don't ask me to carry your cupcakes, Augustus.

I'm not sure how we really plan to do much damage with this rag-tag squad…but I guess to put it in context, we're going to battle against a clan of mentally retarded green legless pigs. Kind of seems like we could walk in there with squirt guns and a piñata and we'd still probably dominate.


We had our first few battles today, and my fear is fading fast. Honestly: the "fortresses" the pigs are building look like something a kindergartner built in homeroom. And we're really starting to work as a team. These crazy ass birds are my brothers now, and I'd go into any oddly constructed battlefield that mentally retarded green legless pigs built with them any day of the week and twice on Sunday. One thing that's been getting under my feathers: our captain gives us this vague "rating" after every battle, and it feels like he's literally just doing it to piss us off. He said we were a "three" on the first one, and then when we were celebrating after our third victory he informed us that we were only operating at a "one." Way to keep morale up, dick. He keeps asking if we'd like to try again, but that seems a bit masochistic. I want my f*%king eggs back, man. Stop being all judgey-wudgey.


Shit's getting real. It took us what felt like hours to destroy one retard pig battlefield today. Seriously: we started at like, 9:15 in the morning and I swear it took until like 7:00 tonight to destroy them. Those retarded pigs are getting smarter. Don't ask me how they came up with this, but they're resourceful: they've been wearing these giant stone helmets and those little bastards don't crack easily. I guess when you're a retarded legless pig you gotta get a little crafty.

In other news, apparently they got an ice machine. They've been making finely shaped ice sculptures. Which sorta blows my mind: do they have one pig with like, one arm that is a master ice sculptor? No time to ask questions, though. The eggs are near. I can feel it.


In the middle of battle today, some assclown flew in asking us if we needed any help. Calls himself "The Mighty Eagle." Hey, narcissism, how's it going? Pretty clear he's on steroids, but no one wants to call him out on it because he doesn't seem that emotionally stable.

Hey, guy…know when we needed some help? When our f*%king eggs were stolen. That's like someone asking you if everything's okay after you just got shot. No. Everything is not okay. I just got shot.

A few of the guys are really big on him. They think we should take him up on it, but I think that's some bullshit. Seems pretty douchey to know everything the pigs are doing and then withhold information.

Oh, and get this: he wants us to pay him. First of all: we're birds. Our currency were eggs, so way to be a dick and rub it in. Also. A dollar? That's all you're asking? Something seems a bit off if you have a way to end a war and it costs a buck. Go eagle it up in Rio, brah. And get some Rogaine.


In a final epic battle, we took down those legless green retards. I've got a pretty bad headache, and the doctors are trying to sort through all of the concussions, but all in all we're feeling pretty good. I gotta admit, that slingshot turned out to be a pretty sweet idea. I'm willing to eat some crow on that one.

Big party tonight to celebrate. Can't wait. There's been talk that the colonels have a surprise for us. Something about using the slingshot to fire us into a birdbath with naked chicks. We could sure use it: we're exhausted and it'd be nice to finally just be happy. Being this angry is exhausting.



Rocket Shoes Mixtape 49: Songs I Imagine Angry Birds Listen To On Headphones Before Gametime

Stream the whole thing at the link above.


Download the entire thing in adorable little MP3′s right here.



Drew Hoolhorst

I have a black belt in feelings.