It keeps getting better: A Short Story

It was cold tonight
But the trash needed to go out.
No one was home downstairs
And the heeled dog didn't care that
I was in my most tattered pajamas.

The sunset was stunning,
And in the front yard, 
Charlie the cockatiel called to me
from the aviary.
Alone, he was, 
except for the twelve lovebirds.

I'll visit him for a minute
and rub his little nose.
Just a minute, though, 
Because its cold,
And I have to go to the bathroom.

I enter the aviary,
now bathed in spotlights
Charlie calls, but he remains aloof above me.
The love birds shrilly scold my invasion.

The door slams shut
And locks
In the aviary.

Alone, I am,
Except for Charlie
and the screeching dozen
And the dog laying outside
Who does not have opposable thumbs
Even if he wanted to release me 
From the spot lit
Cage in the front yard.

My landlords came home
And the dog fetched them up
to see the ragged joke in with the birds.
Crisis averted.

The end.


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