Cecil made assumptions about the city. He had just relocated from South Jersey, hoping to move past a broken love affair. It was a balmy Saturday in Bryant Park, full of people eating, reading, stretching, playing ping pong. He saw many opportunities. Suddenly one of the humans tossed out a piece of hite bread. Instinctively, Cecil flew over and was about to snatch it up when the largest pigeon he'd ever seen hovered over him.
Who the hell are you? the monster bird asked.
I'm Cecil, he stammered. New in town. By this time he was surrounded by angry pigeons.
Okay Buster, this is how this is going to go down. You stay out of my park. We own every inch of this place. Because I'm a nice pigeon, I'm giving you a heads up. Head downtown to Tompkins Square Park. I hear there's an opening. Tell them Monty sent you.
But I'm starving, Cecil pleaded.
Not my problem, fella. And spruce up your appearance. This ain't Philadelphia.
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