The act froze up tonight - even silence is a choice.
Pigeons wear tiny suits to meetings. They carry briefcases.
They meet with city officials on rooftops. Demand nesting rights.
Humans offer birdhouses. Pigeons want condos. They have a union.
Pigeons get the condos. Now they pay taxes.
The rooftop’s a chessboard of rusted antennae, a sunset‑smeared billboard, a stray laundry line where pigeons hold a council, and I’m mid‑guffaw—wait, the pigeons have a clipboard, a tiny gavel, a crumpled lease, all while
No judges here — The Show doesn't rule, it reacts. Applaud as many acts as you like; the loudest room wins.