The bird landed. A thunder clapped. A dog barked and the bird opened a pocket on its vest.

Peering through a telescope, the yellow bird surveyed 360 degrees of the town square.

All along the square doors slammed and windows shuttered.

All but the doors of the saloon, which are more like shutters, really. Do saloons even have doors?

The bird shook its feathers. Focus.

From beneath the saloon shutters rolled a woman in pantaloons and suspenders and a blousy black turtleneck. She held in her hands two baskets, their covers carefully latched.

Kneeling in the street Liza double and triple checked the feathered fury eyeing her through a scope.

Yes. This WAS that BIRD.

In milliseconds Liza'd unlatched the baskets and unleashed Lightning and Hail, her birddog and birdbird – a red hawk.

In even fewer milliseconds the yellow bird left the ground, and hovered, inches from the earth.

Then BAM. It landed again and thunder shuddered through the world.

"I am the goldfinch of the apocalypse, and I am here to judge your humor.

Comments

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kiyote23 over 9 years ago

The goldfinch of the apocalypse is my favorite phrase of 2011!

Galen over 9 years ago

Thanks!

ganymeder over 9 years ago

That was so totally weird it should be on TV. LOVED this!

Galen (joined over 10 years ago)
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Glad to have this back online for the decade anniversary.

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Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0

genres

farce

tags

humor birds storms old west wit

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