BABY GOT BEAK

If one doesn't regularly (frequently) feed the turkey vulture or buzzard perched on the ceramic object in the middle of the table in the teevee room where the computers are, he will stare at one reproachfully whenever one prepares a pipe to smoke while walking around the neighborhood, and suggest that one bring back a corpse for him to feast upon. "But", one will say, "there are almost certainly No corpses out there". Because corpses on the street in urban areas are rare. Whereupon he counters that one should make one, now. That bum gibbering to himself at the nearby bus stop looks ripe, and it's fitting that one be of service to both him (the stuffed bird now looking at one firmly) as well as old people who wish to ride the bus who conceivably might be severely inconvenienced by gibbering.


"Just bring back the fatty inner thighs!"


Of course that would not do. Even in San Francisco, one cannot randomly whack people and carve them up for bird food.

So I course I fed him, and he's quite stuffed. To the point of resembling an egg plant.
A black feathered eggplant with a crimson head and whitish beak.

The other main reason to feed him is so that he's too full to waddle over and threaten to eat the imaginary little girl hamster who visits the other stuffed critters regularly. They are very fond of her. She is innocent and charming.

[UPDATE: My apartment mate is ADAMENT that the little girl hamster is NOT imaginary; she's just shy. Very shy.]

From the moment my apartment mate woke up till she came back from doing her laundry, the little reprobate has been stirring things up. The other critters do not want him to come over to that side, he can stay in my quarters with all the nuts, or in the teevee room. He's is under strict orders to keep out of the kitchen, there will be no making of delicious sauces to go with wild game (little girl hamsters) or culled street people.

When I had lunch, I shared some of my bami goreng with him. For his sake, there was only a modest amount of sambal. I rather overloaded it with daun sawi and ginger, so that proper nutrition was in play -- too much meat leads even among stuffed turkey vultures to digestive issues and excessive snark -- and added a hefty squeeze of lemon juice for both fragrance and taste. He enjoyed it. But fifteen minutes later was loudly wailing that no one ever fed him, that bum wouldn't croak by himself, and surely the meatball shaped imaginary little girl hamster would come over soon?

It's like having a little psychopath on the premises.

After my apartment mate shared some of her ice cream with him, I went out with a filled briar for a smoke. Fresh air, bus stop bums, distant sirens, and people without masks; nature, riotous and chaotic. Rather than feathered and deviously scheming indoors.


Things will be quieter tomorrow. The small people tend to doze in her room when she's at the office, and I have the teevee room and the kitchen all to myself.
Perhaps it will be warmer too.



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