The Death of the Yellow Bird

The image of them having sex suddenly popped into my mind and played over and over, ribbons spinning to the ground, panties shooting up into the air, when suddenly a yellow bird smacked into the window and shot right through it. It cut out the shape of a bird, perfect to a T. If you were to draw a bird on a piece of paper it would have looked exactly like that. What’s even more peculiar is the glass that fell onto the ground: it too was the shape of a bird.

Trav looked at me, “Weird, I would have guessed that it would have hit the window and fallen to the ground. Usually this kind of thing only happens in stories.”.

Strangely enough I had sometimes gotten the feeling that we were being written, yet being locked inside the world we’re in, there’s no way to prove the existence of an Author one way or another.

It would be an awful thing to realize that you were a character, now wouldn’t it? I mean, for my mind not to be my own is almost absurd. Though, there’s no way of proving it one way or another.

Trav laughed, “There’s no way of proving anything. How do you know that I’m not the Author, dressed up as a fish, secretly masquerading as the form before your very eyes. I’m pretty sure that I am. Believe me, I know all that is and will strike you down should you find your own mind and not agree with my opinions. To tell you the truth, I can’t understand why the Author would want to control anything”.

I picked up the bird shaped glass and tossed it into the trash, “What are you doing!?”, he said, “Let me have it. It must be a sign. There must be some meaning to this bird. I can feel it. I don’t feel like I’m just swindling myself into believing something either. We should put a string through it and hang it on the toilet. Actually, on second thought, I hate it” he said, and then tossed it into the garbage, smashing it into a million pieces.

I went to the back door and opened it in hopes to let the yellow bird out. It flew around for several minutes, smacking into the walls, and then the glass, and then the back of the tv before it was finally electrocuted and dropped dead to the ground.

Trav was freaking out by this point about the hole in his window, “Fuck! My window is fucking broken now. This fucking sucks!”

I reminded him, “You don’t even live here anymore, what do you care?”

He smiled, “Yeah, that’s true. I forgot. I guess it’s your problem now”.


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