Sinister: Squawk!

[chris lampinen]

It rained all day today.
It's autumn. I hate autumn. So depressing.

I spent most of the morning wandering around the garden. It's so dead this 
time of year; the flowers are drooping brown skeletons if they still exist 
at all, the shrubs are bare and solemn, and the hedges are so lonely with 
their solitary color. I want to ally with the plants, to give into the death 
surrounding me.

I miss the birds in the trees, the squirrels hopping around with giant 
walnuts hanging out of their mouths.

I miss summer.

I put my walkman on and sat on the cobblestone wall next to our waterfall. I 
watched the wind and cried, cried until the tears turned my face into a damp 
mirror. I found no sun to reflect, so I cried some more.

I threw my head in my hands and watched the teardrops slowly drop off my 
chin to form a small puddle on the wall beside me. I continued to cry; the 
puddle continued to grow.

After I had created a substantial pool of tears I abruptly stopped and 
rubbed my eyes. I opened them to find a bird lapping up my salty lake.

"Alas, who are you, fine, colored bird?"
"Squawk!"

Why was this bird (a tropical one at that!) here? Shouldn't he/she have 
migrated by now? Did he fail the remedial "Living as a Bird" class or 
something? I didn't know if I should pity or punish his stupidity. Upset as 
I was, i decided upon the latter. Using my lighter as a lever (I'm a smoker) 
I wedged a rock the size of an apple off of the wall. I stood and prepared 
to throw.

"Squawk! Arr, matey, I be having a message for ye!"
"Hark! Bird, you speak! What jabber have you for me, yonder winged fellow?"
"Squawk!"

And with that he flew away! I chased him around the garden, yelling for 
him/her to stop.

My lungs aren't what they used to be. I'm a smoker.

Frustrated, I stopped and sat down for a cigarette. Apparently the bird 
didn't want to give me his stupid message.

And then: a light touch on my shoulder.

"You! How dare ye trouble thou again!"
"Arrr, I be havin' a message for ye!"
"Well, tell me yer' bloomin' message or it'll be the plank for ye, aye!"
"Arrr, you should be turning around, lad, aye!"

And so I turned around. There, in the middle of the garden was a book. Where 
did it come from?

I opened the cover. Inside it said simply "For Christiaan, x"

"Arrr, I be havin' a message from yonder! Listmum Princess Honey of the 
Europes be sayin' you know what to do now, arrr!"
"I-I--wait--you're the..? But, me? Why?"
"Arrr, dinnae be askin' questions, lest I be makin' you'se walk the plank! 
Yonder Listmum Princess Honey says, 'go forth, go forth and find yonder 
Princess Christiaan of the Michigans, he shall know what to do with ye!' I 
be thinkin' you're a bloomin' retardo, aye, with you're crying and such. 
Aye, you should be a smilin'!"

And so I opened the book to a random page. Or was it random? I believe in 
fate. Here is what it said:


"
   The Song of the Daffodil Fairy

I'm everyone's darling: the blackbird and starling
Are shouting about me from blossoming boughs;
For I, the Lent Lily, the Daffy-down-dilly,
Have heard through the country the call to arouse.
The orchards are ringing with voices a-singing
The praise of my petticoat, praise of my gown;
The children are playing, and hark! they are saying
'The Daffy-down-dilly is come up to town!'

"

I knew what was to be done.

I smiled and stood up. I walked a few paces only to find a beautiful 
daffodil standing high in the midst of the decaying foilage. I plucked a 
petal and wrote the following with the brightest Love I could find:

Dearest Honey:
You know what to do.
x, Christiaan

I nestled the petal on the parrots back and sent him on his way.

There will be no more tears; it is summer again.

x

Love,
Christiaan

PS: now you know why I wouldn't tell you who I was going to pick, honey :)
PPS: I didn't break any poetry parrot rules, did I?
PPPS: sorry, I know I broke like every list rule in the book on this post. 
Well, Belle and Sebastian, blah blah, now fuck off and leave me alone.

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