Three Birds

An unlikely tale, perhaps. I never wanted to be number two.

      This is an unlikely account of three birds, whose exact species shall not be mentioned. These three birds all happened to be male, which is probably irrelevant. Well, who knows.
      Bird number one decided it would be a good thing to be cool. So he bought himself a new pair of Ray-Bans with money he borrowed from his mom, flew to New York City and sashayed down the street amongst the crowds of people.

      Of course, it didn’t take long at all for a bird on the sidewalk to get stepped-on, new Ray-Bans notwithstanding. He might have learned from the experience, but only the other two birds, who were watching, realized what it meant. Which of course is, even if you actually are cool, nobody really gives a shit .

      Then bird number one decided maybe doing drugs would make him cool. There are certain challenges for birds that choose to do drugs. One is that you have a lot farther to fall if you’re dropping to the street. Another is dealing with pushers. How the hell would they know what you want, if all you can do is chirp? And a lot of those guys are armed, you know? So doing drugs was a bust after a while too. No pun intended.

      So finally he thought, maybe the ticket was gambling. He started out small, playing chicken with guys on motorcycles. Mostly they didn’t notice something coming that was only just so big, which always meant that bird number one lost. He didn’t learn from that, either, and worse, he was now hooked. So he started shooting craps and playing poker, and was forever losing his shirt.

      Bird number two thought that bird number one should have been number two, because most of the time he looked like it. But when you’re number two, he decided, you might as well accept it and make the best of it.

      Bird number two did possess a special talent, which was introspection. He believed with his whole tender heart, surely there must be a reason he was number two, so he took to prayer in an effort to discover why. Of course, there was no clear answer, which caused bird number two to ask almost continuously for forgiveness. But no matter how hard he prayed, he never really felt absolved. So he got pissed off and gave up on prayer, turning instead to taking comfort from ladies of the evening.

      Actually, they kinda liked him. He was a bird, you know? And they almost never treated him like he was number two.

      Bird number three was the smartest of the three birds. If he’d been a mouse, he would have been the second one that gets the cheese. He knew to hang back and to check out what happened to the other birds. And eventually, it paid off. He worked hard, and discovered that the harder he worked, the luckier he got. Birds do have a certain advantage in this area. He found himself a new “bird” every spring and became a daddy many times over. He enjoyed his active life and became the future of avian existence in his area of influence for many decades to follow. Mostly, this was because he had decided he could surely do no worse than had the others, simply by being himself.

      Bird number two nearly died of the clap and thus he finally repented, entering seminary on his way to an abbreviated term in the ministry.

      Bird number one hit the lottery, bought himself a new beamer and drove like a complete asshole.

You’ve probably seen him.


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