Fowl Mouth

"Blow me."

I near-about snapped my head right off my neck with the velocity of my double-take. Wingo Starr stared daggers at me.

"I... I'm sorry? What?" I sputtered.

"You heard me," replied the diminutive figure. "Blow me."

"What? Why?" I managed.

"This bread tastes like shit."

"Y-yes? That's why I was throwing it on the ground. It's a bit stale and didn't taste good."

"well, next time warn me before I start pecking at it. Or better yet, throw some good stuff out."

There was a pause as I tried to make sense of what, exactly, was transpiring. My thoughts were interrupted by the bird.

"But for now, you can blow me. Now get the fuck out of my park."

We stared at each other for a solid seven seconds.

"Now, wait just a minute," I started in on my fowl companion. "I've been here and done this hundreds of times. I've given a name to all you guys and provided you all with lots of free food. If this was really a problem, why didn't you say anything in the first place?"

Wingo looked at me as only a bird can.

"I didn't realize you were feeding us dogshit until the magician came along. Also, I couldn't talk until then either."

This was getting out of hand. Talking birds? Real magicians? I was halfway into a headache and a panic attach I'd come to the park to alleviate. Closing my eyes and clutching my head, I asked the obvious. "What magician?"

"Over there," came the reply. Through one eye, I scanned the park. Sure enough, there was an old man dressed in big blue robes with a knee length beard. In handcuffs. Being escorted by three policemen and... one police bear.

"Oh," I managed.

"Yeah."

"I'm... I'm going home. This is all too much."

"Good - and take your shit bread with you. If I ever find you using that again, I'll come to your house and shit in your coffee."

"Uhm, okay," I said, wandering off, not entirely sure what just happened.

[written March 2015]