10,000 Words Part 36: Noise

They were noisy little bastards, he thought, as he overheard their “music” from the street. These bleeding-heart, warm-and-fuzzy types might pretend they liked that godawful din, probably just to impress their lefty mates – after all, they couldn’t LIKE it – but he knew the rallying cries of a turf war, the pointless bravado of oversexed young males intent on getting to the top, no matter what the cost, when he heard it. These do-gooder types could turn a blind eye to the violence, preferring the cosy narrative of “urban beauty” to the truth, but he wasn’t fooled:
He bloody hated sparrows.