Pigs In Paradise. Roger Maxson

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СКАЧАТЬ I’d come out and join the intelligentsia of the higher animals–oh, Mel, you old mule! I didn’t see you.”

      Blaise and Beatrice looked at each other and caught themselves from wanting to laugh.

      “Blaise,” Julius said, “lovely day for a flock, don’t you think?” Julius loved an audience.

      The chicken covered in mud caked to her bill and feathers ran toward them. “We’re being persecuted,” she cried as she ran through them under the olive tree. “The end is near! The end is near! Put your houses in order.”

      “Where have I heard that before?” Julius said.

      “There you go, Julius. She could stand a good flocking.”

      “A good flogging is more like it. I’m looking for a bird of a different feather even though I hear she likes to cluck and is quite good at it.”

      “Oh, Julius, you’re incorrigible.”

      “Besides, what would my parents think? Well, not much, they’re parrots, but what would they say? My father was a babbling idiot who would repeat anything anyone ever told him. I don’t remember him very well. He flew the coop before I had wings to carry on. I remember, though, the day he left, dropping a trail of bird shit as he flew away.”

      “What has it been this time, Julius, three days?”

      “Why, Blaise, you remember, but who’s counting? I mean, really? Who can or remember back that far?”

      “Doesn’t seem long at all,” Mel said. “Seems like only yesterday.”

      “Mel? Mel, is that you? Everybody, in case you missed it. Mel made a funny.” Julius moved in the branches above Blaise. “Yes, dear, I’ve been away for three days, not far really, and having as much fun as one can while still so close to home. I dropped in on a covey of homing pigeons. They’re a feisty flock, those girls, and keep a neat nest. Oh, sure, they’re not as loving as turtle doves, but you can have your way with them and they keep coming back.”

      “That doesn’t sound very parrot-like of you, Julius.”

      “What’s a parrot to do? I mean, how many Ara ararauna species do you see in the bush?”

      “Regardless, you’re supposed to mate for life, aren’t you?”

      “Yes, well, if you recall, my first love was an African Grey.”

      “Yes, I recall she was of a different feather?” Blaise said.

      “My favorite Ara ararauna, and I didn’t care one iota what Mom and Dad thought.”

      “As it should be,” Blaise said.

      “What became of her?” Beatrice said. “I don’t recall?”

      “She was stolen, taken from me, and shipped to the dark continent of America. She was such a striking beauty, too, with warm grey feathers, and dark inviting eyes. She was a real clicker, that girl, and could she whistle, " Julius whistled.

      “I’m sorry for your loss,” Beatrice said.

      “I’m sorry, too, but we’re animals, aren’t we, some pets, others livestock. It goes with the territory.”

      Blaise said, “So, what brings you out this time of day, Julius?”

      “I’m a parrot, Blaise. I’m not a barn owl. I have friends to see and places to go.”

      “Yes, well, after being gone for three days, I imagined you’d be in the rafters resting, or painting something. Not out in this heat.”

      “As it happens, I’m off today to see an African Grey from the neighborhood.” Julius dropped to a lower branch, his blue feathers blending with the green leaves. “So, today’s visit will be something sentimental for me, and who knows, possibly the beginning of a long-term relationship. I don’t want to get my hopes up, though, not just yet. She may have already mated with another, which would serve me right for my late-night carousing. I’m just saying.”

      “Your presence will be greatly missed,” Mel said. His irony was not lost.

      “Why, thank you, Mel, but not to worry. I plan to be back in the old barn lot in time for the party, so save a dance for me.”

      “There’s dancing?” Ezekiel said to Dave.

      “Blaise, sometimes I think we’re an old married couple.”

      “Because we think alike?”

      “Because we don’t flock.”

      “I’m a cow.”

      “And he’s a mule,” Julius said, “and the only true non-flocker among us. It’s rather rude of us to even be talking about flocking in front of his Holiness, considering he can’t.”

      “Jew-bird.”

      “There he goes again trying to confuse the issue. He can’t argue the facts, so he attacks the messenger. In this case, and in most cases, I might add, it’s me. Don’t blame me for your predicament. I didn’t introduce your mother to your father, Donkey Kong. Oh, it was love at first sight when she got a load of that guy. She was a real Mollie, his mother.”

      “What?” Molly the Border Leicester looked up.

      “Not you, dear,” Blaise assured Molly.

      “When you die, you’ll be a martyr to no one,” Mel said.

      “When I die, I plan to be dead. Not leading the choir.”

      “Atheist, Jew-bird.”

      “Mel, Mel, Mel, a mule by any other name, say jackass, is still a mule.” Mel turned and broke wind as he sauntered off toward the fence line along the Egyptian border.

      “You take after your mother too, especially from behind--both of you wear the same perfume! Just like a stubborn old mule, always has to have the last wind. What I wouldn’t give for a five-cent cigar. Be gone, you horse’s ass, or half a horse’s ass. The other half, I don’t know what you’d call that butt but cute. Speaking of his old black rump, I have a black bill. I use mine to pass knowledge and not fear or natural gas. I use my lovely black beak to do good in the world like climbing, breaking nutshells, and his nuts, whereas his rump--”

      “You certainly do,” Beatrice said, not amused. “He talks, just not as incessantly as you.”

      “Yes, he does out his black rump, but he can’t do both at the same time, walk and talk. It’s where we went to school.” Julius did a flip on a smaller branch, making it sway with his weight, his beak cutting into the bark. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have that cigar, after all. Lit up against his backdraft, it would have set off a small explosion and the neighbors would have gotten all giddy, and then the chanting, the chanting.”

      Just then the call went out for afternoon prayers.

      “Oh, will it ever end? We don’t stand a chance.”

      Mel СКАЧАТЬ