Red Winged Black Bird on a fence post in a field.

Bird Call


Category: prose

I walked out this morning and heard a bird making its song up in some nearby tree. It amazes me how the song of that bird, with its up and down warbling, would go for a bit, stop and then go again for the exact same amount of time. It reminded me a lot of the warbling of a cell phone ring.

That's probably why I thought to myself, "Won't somebody answer that damned bird!"

Comments (2)
You gotta pick the right guy to do the job.
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A zombie is just a friend who died and is trying to eat your brains.