Birds of a Feather

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright 2011 Plot Roach.

Birds of a Feather

By Plot Roach

The crow laughed at her from the lamppost above where she was sitting. Technically it only cawed at her, or perhaps another crow in its territory. But to Ursula it seemed like the dark feathered specter was laughing at her misfortune. She squinted up at it, a black blur against the blazing rays of the sun. Only a creature such as that would have the balls to be as black as midnight under the bright light of day, she told herself. She remembered how her grandfather would welcome them into his garden, even planting specific crops for the crows to eat because he knew that they would also eat the insects he did not want to ruin his garden. She remembered how he lectured her when he caught her throwing rocks at the birds when she was a child. They have a use, he said, even if you do not always understand it.

She opened her purse and dug out a few saltine crackers she kept for morning sickness, hoping that they would quell her nausea before her friend Kat met her for lunch. As soon as she opened on packet, the cracker crumbled and fell through her fingers to the sidewalk. She cursed her luck once again that day, and smiled up at the crow. “Looks like I’m leaving an offering for you after all, Mr. Joker.” she said, as she stood and began to dust the crumbs off of her clothes. By the time she was done, Kat had pulled up into the driveway of the Laughing Ox restaurant, honking her horn as she parked.

“Why didn’t you wait for me inside?” Kat asked.

“I wanted some sunlight.” Ursula said. “And I just had this weird feeling that I should wait for you.”

“Well, I’m here.” Kat said. “Let’s go in before you fry to a crisp.”

Ursula waddled after her friend, the pregnancy having taken a toll on her body that she hated to admit to anyone, much less her friend. The band of muscles across her abdomen felt like rubber bands stretched to the limit and her belly felt like it was filled with broken eggshells. She barely had enough energy to make it to the front register, order her meal alongside Kat and limp over to an out-of-the-way booth that was shaded from the setting sun and under a ceiling fan.

Ten minutes later, their food was brought to them. The breaded fish melted on Ursula’s tongue and she found five minutes of peace in her day. “So what happened, why were you so frustrated over the phone earlier?” Kat asked.

“First the cable went out and I had to stay on the phone for nearly and hour to get them to turn it back on.”

“What happened?”

“They mixed up our apartment with the neighbor’s and they haven’t paid their bill in months. Then, when I got that fixed, the doctor’s office called me up and wants me to take another blood test because they're afraid that I have gestational diabetes, but they don’t have an early morning appointments left and there’s no one to watch the toddler for the afternoon -so I‘ll have to take him with me.” Ursula said, sighing as she put her fork an knife down. The fish suddenly tasted like ash in her mouth as she mulled over all the problems which had surfaced recently to plague her. “Then the landlord wants us to move from one unit into another one, so that he can update our apartment. But he’ll want to charge us more for the new place and can’t guarantee that we’ll get the old place back at our current rent…”

“Get out of my seat!”

Ursula and Kat turned their heads to face the disembodied voice. It was a homeless man, carrying a patched nylon duffle bag over one shoulder. His jacket was a size too small and could not cover his chest, much less zip closed. A baseball cap pulled down low over forehead, almost covering his steely blue eyes which darted back and forth around the room as if searching for something only he could see. He was silent a moment longer as he took a seat behind Kat, pulling paper napkins out of the dispenser and shedding them to bits between dirty, calloused hands.

The women started their conversation again, but were cut off within minutes as the man slammed the napkin dispenser into the wall next to his seat. “Goddamn it! I said out of my seat. You stole my seat! I was here first. Don’t you know better than to leave a man’s things alone? Didn’t your daddy never teach you that when you were seventeen and needed permission to go to the store and buy some milk?”

“Should we get the owner to call the police or something?” Ursula asked.

Kat turned around, staring at the man until he was silent once again. He went back to shredding napkins. “No, I think he’ll lose interest in us soon.” Kat said.

A few minutes later the man started up again, this time throwing the napkin holder to the floor and kicking it for good measure. “I said get out you dirty little whores!” he yelled. The waitress who had taken their orders at the front counter made eye contact with the two women and called out the cook from the back. He was a bullish man, who had seen many fights in his younger days. He wore the scars of his youth with pride, but was even happier that he had not added to them since his parole.

Still the homeless man continued, smashing the napkin dispenser with his foot. The white paper napkins flapped in the breeze caused by the overhead fan, the dented metal sides sagged inward and Ursula could only think of a pigeon that lay dying. “I told you. I wasn’t gonna have none of your lip from your mother or that whore I call a sister. I’m calling the cops myself and telling them what you stole form me. You can’t take a man’s liberty when he’s given it all in the war. And you can’t have my mustache, neither!” he yelled, pulling his bag close to him as he lumbered up to the front counter. “They took my spot..” he said to the waitress behind the counter. “I’m callin’ the cops and having you all hauled in!”

The waitress stood her ground, trying not to shake visibly. It helped that Cesar was just behind her and could jump the counter in a split second to feed this man his own liver if it came down to it.

“Out of the whole place, we had to sit at ‘his booth’?” Ursula asked, shaking her head. “That’s the way my luck’s been going.”

“Cheer up.” Kat said. “If he calls the cops and they come out, maybe they’ll be cute.”

“Yeah, maybe we can volunteer for strip searches.” Ursula said.

The two girls laughed and watched the man wander through the parking lot. All four of the restaurant’s inhabitants tracked the errant moves of the strange, damaged man as he meandered to the nearest payphone.

“Oh, there he goes.” said the waitress.

“Let him call the cops.” Cesar said. “We ain’t done nothing wrong.”

A few minutes later the homeless man approached the door. He never entered, but just yelled at them through the open doorway. “They’re coming! So hide your drugs and your babies! Hide yourselves so that you don’t have to walk into the blue light.”

Those inside watched in fascination and helplessness as the man continued to rant and rave at them from outside the restaurant. His epithets became more colorful as he swerved in and out of the oncoming traffic in front of the little restaurant. Ursula sighed as the sound of sirens approaching reached her ears. She picked up another piece of deep fried fish, preparing to take a bite when she heard the waitress gasp.

“Oh, man” Cesar said. “Look at that!”

A crow was dive bombing the man’s head, raking him with claws when it could not deliver a blow with its beak. The homeless man quit looking where he was going, and began to run wildly in traffic. The sirens broke through his yells as the flashing lights of the police car lit up the night. There was a screech of brakes, the squeal of tires and the muffled thud of a body hitting the pavement. The crow’s prey now rested silently beside the cruiser, finally at peace with the world around him. The feathered aggressor perched on Kat’s car long enough to cackle a laugh Ursula felt was for her benefit before flitting off into the night.

Perhaps my grandfather was right, she thought. Crows have a use, even if you do not always understand it.