The Pigeon Fancier

Sarah was cautiously optimistic about her blind date with Mark. Her friend swore he was "charming, intelligent, and most importantly, didn't own a single hairless cat." Sarah had standards, and allergies.

They met at a trendy bistro. Mark was handsome, had a dazzling smile, and seemed perfectly normal through the pleasantries. Until the appetizers arrived.

"So, Mark, what do you do for fun?" Sarah asked, spearing a regrettably chewy calamari ring.

Mark leaned in, a glint in his eye. "Sarah, I'm a professional pigeon fancier."

Sarah paused, the calamari midway to her mouth. "A... a what now?"

"Pigeon fancier!" he clarified, as if discussing the weather. "I breed, train, and race homing pigeons. My champion, 'Winged Vengeance,' just shattered the regional altitude record."

Sarah blinked. "Altitude... for a pigeon?"

"Oh yes! We attach tiny altimeters. The trick is optimizing their feather density for thermals. The rivalries are intense. You wouldn't believe the drama when someone tries to slip in a performance-enhancing birdseed. It's like 'MasterChef,' but with more cooing and less yelling at plating."

He then, without prompting, produced his phone to display, not pictures of his pigeons, but complex spreadsheets tracking flight paths and average wingbeats. One graph showed a particularly unflattering close-up of 'Winged Vengeance's' muscular thigh.

Sarah slowly put down her fork. "So... your hobby is... bird CrossFit?"

Mark beamed. "Precisely! And protein shakes, naturally. For the birds."

Sarah forced a smile, wondering if her friend had forgotten to mention "charming" was a euphemism for "secretly runs a highly competitive, morally ambiguous avian athletics empire." The waiter arrived, mercifully, with their mains. Sarah eyed her pasta, suddenly feeling a strong desire to migrate to a different continent.

"You know," Mark continued, oblivious, "Winged Vengeance actually has a sponsorship deal with a local birdseed company. We're pitching a line of pigeon-sized energy drinks next."

Sarah imagined a tiny Red Bull can strapped to a pigeon's back. "That's... certainly unique." She took a large gulp of wine. She hadn't expected the date to take flight quite so literally. This was definitely a situation.