L’Amante degli Uccelli

“Porch Parties” were a common happening over at Megis Street during the sweltering summer evenings of Stratum XV.
  ‘The Professor’ and Somber would prop a stereo speaker in an open window and throw some ’60’s garage rock onto the turntable. A case or two of Drewrys beer would suffice for the half-dozen or so friends who would come by.
  Cold brews, cool tunes, and the laughs of buddies by candlelight set the scene on the verandah one humid night, finished by the cooing of nightbirds in the shrubbery across the street.
  Good times... until the sound of feet stomping down stairs began echoing from within the front hall. The Professor and Somber looked at each other. It was Mr Facaro, who lived upstairs. An uptight grad student, Mr Facaro was an Audubon Society member with a penchant for coffee klatches, public radio, and deriding undergrads.
  The screen door flew open and out marched the lanky Mr Facaro in a blue bathrobe, brandishing a broom. The guests on the verandah slinked back in their seats, expecting to be reprimanded by the awakened neighbour for their not-so-quiet shindig.
  But Facaro strode right past them, down the porch steps and leapt across the street, where he began furiously whacking the bushes with his broom.
  To be honest, it probably was the furley undergrads’ verandah celebration that awoke Mr Facaro and set him off. But why the heck did he have to take it out on the poor birds?