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This makes no sense

Sandy sat in her bubble seat, sucking on a sour fizz lolly pop and gazing dreamily at the life size cutout of Barack Obama in her room. She thought how exciting it was to have stolen the cardboard from that election convention months ago and she couldn't take her eyes off of his sweet dinosauric pearly whites, the smile larger than his face and eyes crinkled indicating genuine happiness. "Oh Barack..." The sound of Power of Love gushed out of her stereo "Don't need money, don't take fame, don't need no credit card to riiide this train." She pictured Marty McFly in Back To The Future tailing a pickup truck with his skateboard, and remembered the man in the cafe that always dreamed of being Mayor. Just like Obama. The likeness was uncanny. She wondered whether Back To The Future had taken elements of it's story from Barack Obama's life story by sending it's screenwriters forwards in time in the Delorian, but what about the Flux Capacitor? It must be real. Legend has it that Back to the Future didn't use props, everything that appears was fully functional and filmed in it's functioning state. She paused the replay of Back To The Future in her mind and turned her attention to the willy-wag-tail bird-things chirping away on her window sill. They barked their wild music, blowing Huey Lewis in the stereo to carbon. One of them bore a red mohawk like feather tinging over it's head and down its back, and it's brow sat furrowed while it's eyes moved over Sandy. It was like the head gremlin in .. Gremlins, the one with the white mohawk. Why was this bird thing here? Why was it looking at Sandy so? Were it's friends in league with the rogue sparrow, or were they security guiding this criminal flighted animal on a guided stroll outside the confines of it's natural prison; the ancient oak in the yard? Suddenly the red tinged wag tail squawked and lunged at her face with it's menacing doom beak. She decided it was the latter, that the hell-bird was a serial offender of violence, and screamed out "POLICIA!". But no one came. The bird fluttered around her hair, ruffling its feathers and huffing it's little chest in red-tinged rage. The birds beak wasn't strong enough to pull a leaf off of a tree, but it thought it was bad enough and Sandy was convinced. "POLICIAAAAA!!!" She ran for the draw in her desk and took out a pair of chop sticks, snapping them together like the wag-tail were a fly and she were the Karate Kid proving his worth to his sensei. She clicked them together repeatedly and nipped feathers that floated through up and around in the air like a burst goose-down pillow. The red tinged wagtail felt the tide was turning against it with the introduction of these menacing chop sticks and made a run for the window where it's armoured guards were seen fluttering up and down in mad confusion, not knowing what to do. The chirping frenzy blew the glass out of Sandy's bedroom window outwards and down towards the lawn where her father stood flabergasted at the proceedings, mouth gaping, shocked. He did not move as the glass rained down upon him, but he didn't need to. A giant flying tortoise sprang from the earth and shielded him from death by piercing, a grand smile upon it's darling ancient face and stubbly small elephant feet stretched outwards like jet burners. Sandy ran to her broken window and looked out. She looked at the tortoise, then looked at the red tinged wagtail and his escorts still on her sill. She smiled. And she said, "policia." The End