Captive Audience

– Manfred

Manfred was on a roll; and his audience was attentive.

“And then I would say: ‘Henling’, of course I’d use her actual name, but I’m not going to jinx myself—”

“Get on with it!” One of his more eager listeners encouraged.

“I’d say ‘henling, you have the most amazing eyes, of clear, pale, gold warmth greater than even Saturn’s ammonia-covered hydrogen clouds. And your lores, as soft as feathers; as white as a beluga whale.’”

The seagulls were eating out of the palm of his foot.

“Then what happened?” One of them asked.

“I’d say: ‘For you, my sweet henling, I’d fly to the night sky and bring you the moon, I’d bring you the stars and adorn you with the velvety—”

The gulls broke up laughing again. Only this time they were pointing over his shoulder. Manfred turned to see Olly shoving his flight feathers down his own throat, fake-retching.

“Olly! Do you mind? These seagulls want my advice.”

“These seagulls—” Olly lifted off the ground and flew towards them with his wings outspread and his talons stretched. The juveniles fell over each other trying to escape. “—need to remember that I’m a predator.” The juveniles flew off in every direction, squawking the alarm for all to hear.

Olly broke into his territorial laughter. “One flap of my wings!” He managed after a raucous minute. “I’m going to call it the bird effect…I can almost see the layers of causality rippling outwards now, like a pebble in a pond…” he sucked in his breath. “Oh my hawk! Manfred!” He grabbed the mudlark by a wing. “I think I’m onto something! What if I just changed future history? What if those birds were about to do something important, and now they don’t? I’ve discovered a whole new field of physics!”

“Olly,” Manfred sighed. “It’s called quantum physics, and it’s already been invented. I, on the other wing, was teaching those birds something new before you interrupted.”

“Well paaaaaardon me! I didn’t realise those chicks were so important to your ego.”

“They weren’t chicks. You saw them fly.”

“And you saw their chick-dark beaks, chick-brown wings, the ease with which they hung on your every chick-word.”

“Well, if I have certain skills I’m able to impart,” Manfred puffed himself up, “then it’s my duty to share.”

“Skills? You sounded just like a mammal, mewling and crying for your mummy’s milk.”

“You’re just jealous, Olly. Jealous of my ability to smooth-talk the henlings.”

Olly rolled his head. “Speaking of your amazing ability, how was your date yesterday?”

“I don’t want to talk about—”

“Oooooh!” Olly cut him off. “Am I sensing tension? Something went wrong in the world of the love bird?”

“I just don’t want to jinx it. In fact it went really well, how could it not? I mean, look at me,” he puffed up again. “Look at the clear, pale, gold of my eyes—”

Olly shoved his flight feathers down his throat again.

“—the shine of my black chin feathers.” Manfred continued.

“Who’s a pretty bird, then?” Olly teased.

“Well if I’m not going to be appreciated here, I’m off to find someone more cultured, more learned; more…smarter.” Manfred stretched his wings.

“Well the chicks have landed again,” Olly remarked, using a tilt of his chin to acknowledge their new location a metre further away. “But,” he continued as Manfred turned to look. “I actually flew here to invite you to come and poo with us. It looks like it’s shaping up to be great carwashing weather.”

“Dibs I get reserve!” Manfred yelled as they took off together.