Running From a Silent Red Robin

Ahh...it's been a while since I've had anything to say. I'm getting ready for the annual jaunt to the Caribbean with the wife...we leave on Sunday. No doubt I'll have lots to say upon my return.

I'M BEING STALKED BY A SILENT RED ROBIN
My wife and I are quite lazy when it comes to preparing a daily supper. We eat out ALOT. One of our favorite places to dash to for a quick dinner is a little burger joint called Red Robin. The food is reasonably priced and it's very good.

Recently, we've noticed a Red Robin mascot at the restaurant. Let me start by saying this:

Mascots, now matter how cute, or how well intentioned, are creepy.

In our past couple of visits, the mascot has been there. We spy it walking around, pausing at tables and moving on.

A physical description: The bird is red. Bright red. It stands approximately 5 ft 10 inches in height, and it wears tennis shoes at the ends of its spindly legs. It's head is disproportionately large and it's beak protrudes outward from its face at least ten inches. Its eyes are dead and lifeless. Cold and black, they emit an aura of an emotionless killing machine. It wears little clothing, maybe a sports jersey.

Now, the other night, while we were engaged in a fairly deep conversation, the Robin approached our table. It stopped, looked at me, made some kind of gesture, and didn't say anything. I rebuffed its advances and thought it would move along to harass another table. No. It just stood there. Not speaking. Not moving. Just standing. And staring.

What is the point of this? You're making diners uncomfortable!

My wife and I quickly finished our meal and paid the check. We scurried to the door and didn't look back. As I gazed ahead at the glass exit door, I saw we weren't alone. Behind us, closely, was that FUCKING BIRD.