A wizzard, a bird, a pig.
On a stroll yesterday with Henry and Fredrick, I told Fredrick, my parrot, to be sure to straighten his language a bit. His profanity was altogether embarrassing, though many marveled at his flair – – he could verbally outfox anyone with his erudite vocabulary peppered with competently placed cursing. He was expressing his bête noire for our little walks, inquiring why he had to partake when clearly he could fly. I requested he lower his voice. Henry, my leashed human-sized guinea pig, interjected, claiming he had to piddle. I reminded Henry that relieving himself was the main purpose for the trek. Fredrick became incensed at the interruption, resuming his colorful reproach.
A slight, a nip, a moral.
A tawdry chap coming from the opposite direction must have found Fredrick’s language a bit foul as he eyed us askant. A true gentleman would have passed without the discourteous intimation, so I motioned to Henry. My pig went a tad too far, gnawing off the fellow’s leg whilst Fredrick, in all his agitation, claimed the bloke’s left eye. I handed the poor soul an eye patch and fused his leg into place. It was a good thing I had a leash for my Henry, said I, lest he claim more appendages. As our new friend hopped off I was hopeful that he learnt his lesson.
A mirror, a dame, a panic.
I chastised Henry for his overreaction, but Fredrick started squawking incomprehensibly. Looking up I saw another gentleman approaching us, coincidentally walking with a parrot and guinea pig. Brilliant, I told my two. Fredrick quite agreed, as the other parrot was a hen, although her speech was much more vulgar than Fredrick’s and she lacked his lexicological mastery. Henry commenced a frightening bout of fidgeting and squawking, professing the other pig made him uneasy. Said it was big enough to swallow him whole; suggested we flee or at least cross over the boulevard. Peering once more at the oncoming trio, we noticed the owner bore an eye patch and sported a prosthetic leg. The strange guinea pig then swallowed a stray calico in one chomp. Henry was quickly winning me over with his pleas as Fredrick was working himself into an absolute hullabaloo.
A flirt, a jolt, a pearl.
Henry screeched for us to cross the boulevard, but Fredrick shot off my shoulder and flapped about his chickadee in a most flirtatious show. She and Fredrick flitted off into a nearby maple whilst my counterpart glowered at me, releasing his leashed pig. My heart quickened and Henry trembled. I implored him to take heart, to stand his ground. Just as the enormous beast was upon us, Henry stood upon his hind paws, gnashing and growling as I’d never seen before. I summoned a thunder clap for effect. The other pig stopped in its tracks just long enough for Henry to pounce, sending the frightful creature running.
A goose egg, a command, a loopty-loo.
Fredrick whooshed out of the tree landing on my shoulder sans his left eye. As I produced an eye patch, I asked if he indeed acquired the lady’s number. Bugger off, said he, momentarily stunned. He spat and cursed and demanded to go home. Though Henry was in favor of leaving, he reminded us he had yet to piddle.
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Mary Baader Kaley has an M.A. in Counseling, and enjoys writing short fiction and poetry of various genres. Her work can be found in Salome Magazine, The Shine Journal, and in an upcoming issue of Stymie Magazine and Powder Burn Flash. She wishes each and every wizzard the best in all their future endeavors.