Tagged: bird

A Midnight Spot Check

  • k-avatarI have been pregnant for five days
  • carrying a white dove
  • slung the towel over his shoulder
  • a midnight spot check
  • heaved him over a hip
  • and a green hat

A midnight spot check revealed Denise carrying a white dove and a green hat. When asked to explain herself, she said, “I have been pregnant for five days. He slung the towel over his shoulder, and I heaved him over a hip, and that was all it took.”

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Amanda Has Not Moved

  • nothing at all unusual in thisk-avatar
  • countless x-rays
  • normally so motionless
  • the stench of rotten fish
  • the files of the child welfare committee

Amanda has not moved in 17 hours.

There is nothing at all unusual in this, as she is normally so motionless that birds alight on her head and moss grows on her toenails. What is a bit unusual is that the stench of rotten fish hasn’t prompted her to relocate.

The tips are good down here at Fisherman’s Wharf, but not that good. And the freak tide, with its concomitant aroma, has chased off all the tourists anyway.

Amanda’s silver body paint reflects most of the solar heat, but also inhibits perspiration. She must be uncomfortable. She faces the promenade, with Alcatraz in the background. A living photo-op.

Enduring countless x-rays as a little girl must have trained her to keep still. The reason for all those medical images is sealed away in the files of the child welfare committee.

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“Are You Telepathic?”

  • k-avatarand feeling for a zipper
  • and a felt hat like a helmet
  • Are you telepathic?
  • Better than getting drunk!
  • the finest esprit de corps the world has ever known
  • Also 50 yards of extension cord

Are you telepathic?

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because if you were, I wouldn’t have to waste time speaking aloud. But, unless you’re hiding your true abilities behind a bland denial, I suppose speech is going to be necessary.”

“Does anyone ever say yes?”

“One man did once, and elderly fellow with a bow tie and a felt hat like a helmet. I thought about cars at him, and he stumbled away swearing and feeling for a zipper. So I think he was lying.”

“How about you? Can you read minds?”

“Sometimes. Better than getting drunk! But I need two live doves to make it work. Also 50 yards of extension cord.”

Telepaths have the finest esprit de corps the world has ever known.

“I quite agree.”

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Extradimensional Infiltration Won’t Affect Your Cerebral Output

  • k-avatarunless you are using vibrations for bones
  • your cerebral output
  • an irascible, tyrannical old coot!
  • I flipped my cape over him
  • — orbs as you call them —
  • gently adjusted the glasses
  • he gave a muffled buzz
  • as thick as a parrot’s
  • “I’ll never leave you, baby.”

Extradimensional infiltration won’t affect your cerebral output or the function of your eyes — orbs as you call them — unless you are using vibrations for bones or possess feathers as thick as a parrot’s. But that is assuming that all the usual guild-approved apparatus is present. I gently adjusted the glasses which protected my sight-orbs and fluffed my downy feathers. Jones had landed in trouble, not surprising since he is, in fact, a parrot, besides being an irascible, tyrannical old coot! He sat frozen on his perch while I and the other owls prepared for the mission to retrieve his marbles from the cosmic interstices. Occasionally he gave a muffled buzz, especially after I flipped my cape over him. His simple but adoring young — inappropriately young — wife, a very pretty flamingo, said, “I’ll never leave you, baby.” Jones buzzed again, and leaned forward precariously. There was no time to lose.

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Varnishing My Study

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • varnishing my study
  • like calling a leg a “limb”
  • each kill a man
  • a stuffed owl
  • I am still on a merry-go-round

Kent’s Take

Even after completing my hazing ritual and varnishing my studyI am still on a merry-go-round of ennui, riding a stuffed owl of disenfranchisement, pondering why we must each kill a man with a harmonica to gain entry into this occult club, puzzling over whether it means the harmonica is to be the weapon or if the victim must have it on him (I covered both bases, just to play it safe), and vexed by habits of linguistic imprecision (like calling a leg a “limb”) in a world where language is already so rife with ambiguity and clouded meanings.

One sentence = Bonus Points!

Jen’s Take

by jenJohannes Van Der Oppenstüffel, the reclusive Dutch billionaire, was sponsoring a competition to choose his next bodyguard. The first task he assigned the hopefuls was to scour the grounds of his immense estate in search of a stuffed owl. Once that was accomplished, he told those who remained, “You will each travel to a foreign city and you will each kill a man named either Karl or Geoffrey. When the task is completed, you will call me with the details. And when I say ‘details’ I mean I want you to be specific. Nothing like calling a leg a ‘limb’ will be allowed.”

Five hours later the first call came.

I am still on a merry-go-round in the Tivoli park in Copenhagen” came the rough voice, “but Karl is dead, his head crushed by a cotton candy machine.”

“Excellent,” replied Johannes. “Return to Amsterdam immediately to take up your duties. You will begin by varnishing my study. If you know what I mean.”

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Enchanted Mariner Ducks

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • enchanted mariner ducks
  • striped scarlet luminescent work-coats
  • low relief with pubic hair
  • the feathery roots of his water hyacinths
  • “Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me!”
  • tear a larynx

Kent’s Take

I sat in Doctor Entenman’s waiting room, hoping the décor wasn’t indicative of his qualifications as an otolaryngologist. All the others in town were closed for the holiday. The artworks showed truly horrific taste, made more sickening by the realization that the good doctor was himself the artist. A garish neon abstract took up most of the wall facing me, and was accompanied by a plaque bearing its title: “In which the enchanted mariner ducks out of the saloon to escape constables attired in striped scarlet luminescent work-coats.” Above my head was a matted atrocity, a low relief with pubic hair, evidently meant to signify the feathery roots of his water hyacinths. I heard raised voices, first a woman shrieking something about being behind schedule, and then a man bellowing “Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me!” I supposed I’d chosen a bad week to tear a larynx.

bonus points for using them in order!

Jen’s Take

by jenThe great artist and his assistant stood by in their striped scarlet luminescent work-coats while the phalanx of critics examined his latest creation.

“You say it’s called ‘enchanted mariner ducks,’ and yet I detect nothing of the waterfowl in its design,” said the most unctuous of the bunch, a man known to be overly fond of the feathery roots of his water hyacinths, if you know what I mean.

“Curious, isn’t it,” said Hieronymus Warhol.

“This is clearly a bas-relief, and yet under ‘medium’ you have declared that it is ‘low relief with pubic hair.’ Not only is that not a real medium, it’s also disgusting!”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” replied Warhol.

“Stop quoting Lewis Carroll at me!” cried the critic.

“As soon as you tear a larynx,” drawled the artist. “Preferably your own.”

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Oedipus Giggled

  • sometimes I get overzealous
  • bouncing a diapered kangaroo on my knee
  • the bird in the paper bag
  • Oedipus giggled all the way home
  • make an asparagus omelet
  • sleep-taught toilet training
  • me and my herniated module

Oedipus giggled all the way home from his therapy session, smitten by the idea that all of his troubles were the result of sleep-taught toilet training.

The bird in the paper bag said, “Sometimes I get overzealous,” and it was true. The bag had nearly filled up with eggs by the time Oedipus reached his house. He planned to make an asparagus omelet, but thought it prudent not to inform the bird.

When he opened the door, his jaw and the bag of eggs both hit the floor. There I sat, bouncing a diapered kangaroo on my knee.

“Should you be doing that?” Oedipus asked.

He always worries about me and my herniated module.

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We Never Did Manage

  • I can bring a wild duck
  • kissed me on the lips
  • Monique had been faithless
  • distrust turned to horror
  • and brandy if the gentlemen wish
  • He wriggled and wailed

We never did manage to make our picnic plans. Hector had just announced, “I can bring a wild duck, and brandy if the gentlemen wish,” when Silas’s indiscretions boomeranged in front of everyone.

Silas opened the conference room door and sidled in. At first I was happy at his unexpected arrival, but then Monique broke down in sobs and fled the room. Confused, I looked to Silas for an explanation and read the misery in his eyes.

“Valerie,” he began, tears choking off the rest of his worlds. He wriggled and wailed and kissed me on the lips, although I didn’t kiss him back. I could not trust him, his erratic behavior. Distrust turned to horror as I realized Monique had been faithless as a friend, faithless to her own husband, and Silas was a sorry fool to whom I had given half my life.

So the picnic plans kind of never got worked out.

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