My shtick had admittedly gotten stale. I would say, “Hello! Woooo-oooop!” Then I would sway from side to side, rub my beak on my perch and say, “Whadaya mean, crazy?” Bodean got a kick out of that the first, oh, ten times I did it.
But still, what a fuss they made over that cat. The first time the cat spoke, Bodean paused The Price is Right and remarked to Nancy, “That did not sound like a hairball.” Nancy got down on the floor and cooed, “What’s wrong Banksy? I hope you’re not sick!” Banksy leaned into the caress of her hand and repeated his first word in a crackly voice, as if he found it extremely important.
“Well, shit,” said Bodean, joining Nancy on the floor. “You ever heard a cat make a sound like that?” Continue reading Polly
The bees were getting restless. They had been waiting for over an hour for the humans to arrive, and they began eyeing the pretty yellow meadow flowers.
“Couldn’t we …” began Fluzz, “… I mean it seems stupid to sit around doing nothing … couldn’t we collect some nectar while we wait?”
Guzz had been pacing but stopped to consider. After a moment she shook her antennae from side to side. “No no no … please don’t. Then you’ll want to return to the hive and that’s when they’ll come.” Continue reading A Fresh Start
The tadpoles were in bed and Mike sat on his favorite lily pad looking up at the moon.
He enjoyed that time of day.
George glided over. He liked to skirt the edge of the pond looking for snails. A tuft of weeds jerked up and down in his beak as he chewed. George was a duck.
George didn’t care for frogs, as food, and so they could be friends. Continue reading Goodnight Pond
As Dr. Baskin strapped me in, her face was twisted uncharacteristically, but I couldn’t tell what emotion it conveyed. Was she holding back tears or just concentrating on getting the tension right? When she was done she paused, which in itself was strange in the midst of the efficient, hyper-kinetic whirlwind of preparations that were underway. A smile flickered across her face. “Little monkey,” she breathed, before looking at her watch and turning away suddenly as if sucked back into the machinery of launch preparation. Continue reading Little Monkey