I Can't Stop Pulling a Face

I'm on the phone with the Pirate, checking in to see how his morning went. We had the carpets cleaned on Tuesday and the hallway still isn't dry...

"Hey, I gotta go. The cat's killed a bird," the Pirate says in a panic.

"Really?" I am sort of happy about this, not realizing that he would ever be able to hunt, being a formerly indoor-only cat.

"Gotta go! It's here in the living room - with no head."

And now I'm making that face and I can't stop. If, when I get home, I can still tell where it was, I'm going to be both cross and grossed out.