I CANNOT OUT-ARGUE THAT WOMAN
My apartment mate, who was much more awake than myself at that point, ventured the novel theory that that was simply a rumour the predecessor to the SPCA had put out.
In fact, she said brightly, there still were Dodos, they had simply been given nose-jobs and sunglasses to cleverly disguise them, and many of them were shaking little tin cups for spare change in first-world cities.
Didn't I ever look around and wonder at all street-people?
Surely I could not deny it was the best disguise ever?
The Dutch had failed! They meant to eat them all.
It was by no means the success I claimed.
In her opinion, the Dutch didn't have a culinary heritage at all.
They hadn't even finished eating the Dodos.
Jolly poor show, what.
I did not protest her assertion. I was too busy remembering the various street people I had seen.
Yep. Some of them did look Dodoish.
Or even quite Dodoesque.
Both of us give money to local Dodos, in case you were wondering.
That first cup of coffee in the morning is a blast.
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