The story begins…
Stories as in. What is her story? Why the big hair? Why did she look at me like I had a third eye? So, let’s try to imagine what an average day for Roberta aka Birdie would be like.
The scene.
It is morning. Most days start that way. A little light sneaks through the blind and she stirs just enough to get attention. The bedroom has a white plush carpeted floor and is littered with a thousand throw pillows that were once neatly place on the bed the night before. On the nightstand is an opened book laying face down and beside the book a half a cup of chamomile tea. Hanging from the closet door her attire waits for her morning transformation. I’ll not bore you with the particulars. I’ll just say the usually professional clothes that one wears in her profession. I’ll leave this to your imagination. I’m thinking black pantsuit and pumps. I would prefer jeans, a tee shirt and a baseball cap. But I won’t let my tomboy fetishes get in the way of fiction.
Wake up
Every morning, she wakes up at the crack of dawn. When it dawns on her that it is time to wake up, that is. Sometimes she sleeps in but her four-legged alarm clocks make it almost impossible. She has two pets: a long-haired orange cat who answers to the name, Buster. But like most cats he decides if a response is needed or necessary. The other is a dog she calls Charlie. Charlie is named after my favorite slapstick comedian. Charlie Chaplin. Buster of course, is my second favorite slapstick comedian, Buter Keaton. I’ve always wanted to name my pets, Charlie and Buster. Luckily, I can bring them to life, at least on paper. The character Birdie has no choice but to play along. I wanted to include a yellow canary named Clouseau (I like Peter Sellers just as much as the other previously mentioned comedic icons) but that name wouldn’t fly. And yes, as usual, pun intended.
Feed Me
When buster is hungry, he meows non stop. If he doesn’t get a response, he will just sit on your face to either wake you up or kill you. Charlie doesn’t stir until buster stirs. Only Charlie doesn't stir, he dances around like Mr. Bojangles. Jack Russell's can tap dance and vertical jump just to see if there is any food on the counter. After seeing nothing, Charlie starts to whimper. Oddly, it sounds a lot like. “Now?” It’s the same sound he makes for any question following the words, want a… It could be for treat, a walk or just to hang a leak on the neighbors’ begonias. This is the only thing these two share. Meows sound like “now?” too. Just like a couple tweens every sentence ends in a question?
A little side bar or segway here before I move on. These animals are not equipped with a snooze alarm. Still, the sound of a hairball being upchucked will get your attention.
And so, it begins
Roberta wakes up. I figure since I’ve created the character, I can call her what I want. I can’t say I ever liked the name Roberta, but I had to get to Birdie somehow. Birdie stretches her legs and exits her comfortable warm cocoon. Buster stops by to give a fluffy hug. Birdie doesn’t know if it just a ploy for food of if the cat really loves her. All she can see is a fluffy orange question mark posing as a tail. Still, it’s better than the feline tail flick f you that she has seen on occasion. When she occasionally sees the orange fur ball walking across the island in the kitchen and yells at him to get down. Oh the tail flick is a coming. Charlie is tapdancing at the doorway. Birdie makes the bed and begins to walk toward the kitchen. The first thing she does is feed the four-legged alarm clocks. She then grabs a cup of coffee, a bowl of cereal and sits on the couch. The television comes to life. Her morning routine and mine are similar, clearing the cobwebs with comedy and coffee. She watches last nights Kimmel and Colbert.
Movement
Suddenly, there is a strange sound from a room at the end of the hallway. Either someone is playing a drum solo in the apartment next door or some dumb orange cat with a hygiene fetish is trying remove layers of piss, shit and plastic off the litter box. Dogs are different. Once they get over the embarrassment of someone watching them poop, they just wipe their feet, flick some grass and get on with their day. I wonder what went through a dogs head the first time he or she or he question mark, saw someone picking up poop. Let’s see I poop and you save it in a little plastic bag. Can imagine two dogs meeting for the first time. They both sniff butt (the dogs that is) to make sure their dogs. Happens all the time. Then they bark. This is called doggie dialog. Suddenly, in my mind these two dogs are walking in central park like two New York construction workers or cab drivers. I'll leave that to your imagination. I'm thinking bull dogs. They start barking. “How’s it hanging?” “I see” “Wait! Maybe not” “Hey watch this” “I bet you my left nut they pick my poop up” “Hey! We both know you ain’t got no left nut” “Okay how about a milk bone?” “You’re on” “Nobody does that" "I mean, who does that?” “Oh! They does that” After seeing wrapped crap and giving away a milk bone, the loser walks away and says “and to think I have been dropping my logs on the begonia bush next door”
This concludes todays episode of Me X 3
Join us next time. The story continues with, The bird at the desk.
What new adventures await her?
And does she know that her slip is hanging out the back of her skirt?
These questions and more next time on Me Times Three
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