Banger - bangs on doors begging for food and shelter (“We just wanna make out, mind going out the room for a sec? No? Okay, it’s okay, we’ll manage with the two of you looking at us too, I didn’t know you are into that (smirks), then getting chased away by a lady with a broom, and a child who almost caught one of the pigeons with bare hands, the other pigeon screaming, “This isn’t me ditching the relationship babe, this is me saving my own ass because you never did. Remember when we were making our kid Evan in the 3rd story room that belonged to Smith’s? I was caught under their bucket, and you wouldn’t try to even flip it till help arrived” Pigeon says, “What help could have arrived, 911? We are pigeons. We. ARE. the. help!”, other pigeon says while flying away, “If luck favors and it’s meant to be, we’ll meet again. Toodles!”) and sometimes banging on bathroom windows spooking the resident bathing who screams in her top voice
One day they saw an empty room, saw a ceiling fan and thought, “Wow, that’s a really secure place, well done Juego (pats himself on the back with his own feathers)”, then falls asleep on the high fan. In an hour, someone comes into the room, and gasp, turns on the fan! The pigeon goes swirling, screaming, “Whoa, oh, oh!”, while he holds on for dear life, and says, “I was dumb, how could I think any apartment would be up for grabs in a place like NYC? Maria was right about those 20 kids living in a 300 sq. ft room. Said they wanted to be rappers and shit. Pfft. The only empty place? The Empire State Building. But now I have injured my back, and there’s no way in hell I’m climbing that tall thing. Look, I can’t even un-pat my own back. Who knows? Let’s try. If humans can lick their own elbow, I can un-pat my back (context: Juego is a pigeon with OCD)”
He tries to do that, and succeeds, but he ends up losing grip of the fan blade, centripetal force pushes him to the farthest edge of the fan, and he drops the ground. We don’t see the camera moving and showing him right away, but we see the fan, still moving, but a sudden burst of feathers and blood going up and splattering all over, on the fan blades, on the walls. Later, after the “pause for effect”, we see Juego lying down, with feathers cut up, bleeding, saying to himself, “I knew this isn’t the best place in NYC for immigrants, according to the Billboard I saw back in Los Angeles. This city no good for pigeons with specialities like us. I have dating this pidge Emma for 5 months, FIVE months now! And still calls me Juego (pronouncing the J). (Spits) Learn my name! Heyyyy, at least I un-patted myself. Quite an itch it was. Oh no, blood. Blood! Are they murderous or something, the roommates here? Worse, are they pigeon lovers, or eaters??!! I moved here with the assurance from Maria that she said people here are trynna drop weight or something, trynna make it to Hollywood, switching to keto and vegan diets, eating tofu, almond milk and all that shit. Let’s do some sleuthing and track the blood. Oooo (smiling) I could be a part time cop or something. The first pigeon cop, imma make my bloodline proud! Uh oh, blood, it’s coming from, um … me!” Drops head to the ground, faints and sticks out the little pigeon tongue.
Cuts to Emma finding Juego unconscious, pecking him gently to wake him up. Juego wakes up and says, “Ow, ouch, ouch! What the fuck Emma? What are doing here, pecking me? Aww, I know, stop with all those pecks, I know you missed your guy, but this isn’t the time (singsongy). The humans would find us and fucking record us. I have heard there are people who can’t jerk off to their own kind, but somehow us. Emma, we could be the best paid actors and actresses on this stage of love!”
Emma: “Cut the crap. If I didn’t wake you up with pecks, and just ruffled your feathers, you wouldn’t have gotten up. I told you not to go into random NYC houses. Shhhh, people could be dangerous. OMG, look at you. Poor Juego. Let’s hurry up and get you out of here before you lose any more blood and become halal meat for the people.”
Juego, “I can’t fly (pouting), could I get a pigeonback ride (kissy face)?” Emma raising both the flaps of her wings, angry, said, “You know I can’t do that. My wing is literally left leaning. Don’t be a chicken!”
“Hey, I’m not a chicken. I’m a pigeon!”
“Of course you are. Now stop such a baby and let’s go, it’s just a flesh wounds, we’ll get you treated. Herman knows a pigeon, who knows a pigeon, who knows a pigeon, who knows where the miracle plant is. It’s legal in NYC, too.”
Juego, “Hey, that’s a good thing! The government would love you, poster girl. And halal? What do you mean by that? Aren’t people turning vegan, as you said? Giving up killing smart pigeons like us, because they realised they need is?”
Emma: “No silly! They are vegans on Instagram. In the house, they could be cooking pigeons day and night, and you wouldn’t know a thing!”
Juego: “Last week when Harris and Tia went missing, whooaa (gasp), is that why? Is that where (thinking of humans tearing the pigeon apart, toying with Juego on the plate where he defends himself from the cutlery fork and knife left and right with a close brush from death)”
Shakes his head, and wakes up from the daydreaming.
“Won’t the dogs smell them doing them? They can smell the hotdog bits from miles away, and reach there, but only short of us. We beat them to it every time, because we have bird’s eye vision. We spot it, we got it (proudly, like a tagline). But we have small mouths and small bellies, so even before we get our fill, the dogs get to it. Then we leave them to it. Can’t piss the dogs off. We eat what they won’t, in return they guard the city and protect us all while we take a quick nap.”
Juego was assisted by Emma, but couldn’t fly and they both fell into a dumpster.
“Are we safe now? Oh no, it smells awful. This must be heaven, where all pigeons are banished to after a lifelong of delivering letters and fleeing from angry humans.”
Emma, “No Juego, this is the dumpster. We really dived into it. It’s literally the one outside the house you got flesh wounds at.”
Juego, murmuring, sounding weaker than before, “Oh, you’re right. It’s hell. In heaven you see the light. Hey, hey, I see the light!”
Emma: “Quick, get out before they take us both to garbage disposal!”
Juego: “But it’s a Saturday.”
Emma: “You never know.”
Juego: “But they’ll sort the waste first, right?”
Emma: “You are in the wet waste bin.”
Juego: “Uh oh.”
They have a lightbulb moment, well, just Emma. Juego lost a lot of blood so he was still out of it. They pile waste on top of each other by picking it up with their beak from the trash, and mostly noticing how most of the waste isn’t wet to be honest. Soon enough they find plastic cups from Starbucks (trying to find leftover coffee foam in it, Juego found some, happily sucks it all, “When I first moved here, these were my only motivation, always told myself, since people throw the foam out, the barista must be throwing in the foam for pigeons like me for free, what a kind soul, starts daydreaming again, until another Starbucks cup hits him, cutting him out of the faze), Stanley cups (“They went out of fashion, so that’s understandable”, Emma says), then finds a metal straw in perfectly good condition (Emma and Juego both scream in unison, “What a monster!“)
Soon enough they climbed to the opening and jumped out. It hurt, but they survived the fall.
Soon, a person almost crushes them under their sneakers, but Juego acts within split seconds and swooshing away just in time.
Juego: “I’m flying here (him flying just an inch above the ground, Emma making the idgaf face), you walker, you fucking streetwalker, look up from your phone and see the road, I mean, look down from it. No respect for the disabled and needy!”
Finally they are reunited with their gang, and saw Juego’s condition. Then they start one-upping each other, and forgot all about Juego.
A pigeon in particular brags about how his grandad was the first pigeon-postman. Another speaks about how his grandmom was the one pigeon in the World War who bore letters, but was executed. Another one chiming in, asking, “He helped in the war. Come on, who’s side are you on?” The pigeon replies, whichever side the kids drop their icecream and cry, and the messy eaters always cut up hotdog bits for them and drop it on the ground.
Another pessimist pigeon explaining how the people don’t actually care about the pigeons, they are just messy eaters and they shouldn’t make them take notice of the bits they are dropping, or they’ll grab a plate and wipe it clean from the next day and leave the pigeon gang to starve. Another timid pigeon, visibly a high-pitched teenage pigeon wonders, “Hotdogs? As in (trembling) … dogs?” Camera pans to the dogs with their teeth out, a swiping shine on their teeth for a split second is seen. Dog leader says, “Hey pidgies, want to be chased again? Either you give me food, or YOU’RE FOOD.” Every pigeon trembles, until Emma goes over and pets the dog with the right wing.
Dog: “See told you, I don’t bite.” Emma: “Well you were gonna eat us not a whole second ago.”
Dog: “Oh, forgive me, my bad, master, I mean, Emma. Keep ‘em pets coming my way. Yes. Oh yeah, oh yeah, belly rubs too? You’re a dogsent. Who’s a good boy? I’m a good boy. Who’s a good boy? I’m a good boy. Everytime I look down into a puddle of rain, I see my alter ego and say, who’s the goodest of them all? One day it’ll say me, boys, me.”
Emma makes a “I could care less” face and keeps petting to show the pigeons, “See? It’s THAT easy. What did I tell you folks? But you guys wouldn’t lift a feather, it’s me who has to do all of it. I’m winging it (pun on wings, she still petting the dog, while it rolls back and forth on the asphalt), but it works. Every time (confidently)!”
Emma got tired, and pretends to throw a ball of feathers in the other direction. Dog gets up, runs away with its tongue out, moving in the wind, saying “Who’s a good boy? I’m a good boy!” all over to himself like a maniac. Emma, “Can’t believe this is the state of our city’s security!”
The other pigeons watch in awe. Juego, “This is why I love you!” Emma, “THIS, is why?” Juego, “Not only THIS!”
Pigeons look at themselves in the reflection of a puddle (water) and get spooked. The adults explain how it’s just a reflection