"I want to soar with you like a bird & make love as if we were swifts in the air. Our sky is too bright to be taken down yet. Please come back to me." She deleted the text & walked to the aviary. The cages were rather small but the birds bright & raucous. There was a bird box for the anonymous deposit of the unwanted or injured. She placed Squawkers in the box and departed with a soiled shoulder but a clean conscious. Squawkers looked around, trying to ascertain the hierarchy here. Should he need to display dominance, he wanted to pi ck out the bird that ran the coop. The way that the other's kept looking at the sickly parakeet in the top left corner I gathered that she was the Big Bird. Squawkers flew nearer. Coo, from a lofty perch, clucked derisively at the goings-on. Pitch perched on the same branch and mimicked the owl with impressionable excitement. Birds weren't the only thing aloft on this soft, summer night. Cupid shot his bow through the hearts of Pitch and Coo, and prepared his deep-fryer for some tender, loving nuggets. But the owl swooped in before Pitch and Coo could be murdered by The False Cupid. That night they all slept face-down as baby owls do, and the yellow porch light attracted the Guardian Moths. The uncertainty made the Moths uncomfortable, so they left. False Cupid or no this party was flagging and an ass up Pitch and Coo did not bode well for their chances of getting the decadent lifestyles in a gilded cage they were after. Pitch goosed Coo near the duck pond making the geese gawk. Putrid False Cupid was being stupid with a puffin from Pitcairn Island's Penal Bird Sanctuary for Wayward Birds. He got the message when his false wings fell off, as well as his real penis. "Oh, that kind of wayward," he says as he bleeds out.

 

Comments

1 Zetawilk's photo

Poor Pitch and Coo.

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