There once was a bird named Batata. He was a beautiful harlequin macaw who spoke three languages and possessed an uncanny ability to mimic all of the wrong things. Amidst his verbal arsenal were such jewels as "tittywhiskers" "mangofart" and "sweatermeat."
Rude, loud and an incurable flirt, Batata's only real cheerleader was his mistress, who rewarded his more repugnant behaviours with fruit and cheese; treats that he repaid with love and nuzzles and evil winks over her shoulder to his arch nemesis, Bart Fitzroy.
Why 'was' instead of 'is'? Did Bart finally snap and throw him into the clothes dryer?
The answer is no. Batata has escaped. He has, pardon the pun, flown the coup, leaving Mona absolutely crestfallen. The open window is the obvious bet concerning Batata's means to freedom, but grief is not so easy. She turns from the empty cage she's been staring at helplessly for an hour now and points an accusing finger at Bart. He looks up from the car manual he's flipping through, his brows inching towards his hairline.
"If you had not flipped him the bird all those times then he would not have run away!"
"What the Mona!?" He cries out, full of the knowledge that A) yeah, he might have shot the bird..the bird, and B) Batata and his pea-sized brain are incapable of being offended. "I was scratching my nose! He flew out the window, dude!"
Mona frowns and then stomps passed him to grab her purse from its hook by the door. "Whatever. I have to find him. What if he's lost? Scared? What if.."
"...someone's strangled him?" Adds Bart, if only to get a rise out of the girl.
She shoves her fists down to her sides, shoulders hunched to her cheeks, eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed tightly. "I'll find him with or without you, escroto. I would help you if one of your cars ran away!"
His snort coincides with her slamming the door. "Yeah..like cars can.."
Wait. Rhy'Din. He hurries to the window to not only watch Mona disappear down the sidewalk- her back half as delicious as her front- but to also make sure his Mustang hasn't, for whatever reason, decided to amscray on him.
A sigh of relief escapes him when he spots it in the driveway.
(Bart used with permission.)
Rude, loud and an incurable flirt, Batata's only real cheerleader was his mistress, who rewarded his more repugnant behaviours with fruit and cheese; treats that he repaid with love and nuzzles and evil winks over her shoulder to his arch nemesis, Bart Fitzroy.
Why 'was' instead of 'is'? Did Bart finally snap and throw him into the clothes dryer?
The answer is no. Batata has escaped. He has, pardon the pun, flown the coup, leaving Mona absolutely crestfallen. The open window is the obvious bet concerning Batata's means to freedom, but grief is not so easy. She turns from the empty cage she's been staring at helplessly for an hour now and points an accusing finger at Bart. He looks up from the car manual he's flipping through, his brows inching towards his hairline.
"If you had not flipped him the bird all those times then he would not have run away!"
"What the Mona!?" He cries out, full of the knowledge that A) yeah, he might have shot the bird..the bird, and B) Batata and his pea-sized brain are incapable of being offended. "I was scratching my nose! He flew out the window, dude!"
Mona frowns and then stomps passed him to grab her purse from its hook by the door. "Whatever. I have to find him. What if he's lost? Scared? What if.."
"...someone's strangled him?" Adds Bart, if only to get a rise out of the girl.
She shoves her fists down to her sides, shoulders hunched to her cheeks, eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed tightly. "I'll find him with or without you, escroto. I would help you if one of your cars ran away!"
His snort coincides with her slamming the door. "Yeah..like cars can.."
Wait. Rhy'Din. He hurries to the window to not only watch Mona disappear down the sidewalk- her back half as delicious as her front- but to also make sure his Mustang hasn't, for whatever reason, decided to amscray on him.
A sigh of relief escapes him when he spots it in the driveway.
(Bart used with permission.)