The Poacher
At first, the birds had kept quiet and calm in the dark, but now these stupid parrots wouldn’t stop squawking and talking and fluttering their wings.
“Shut up!” he yelled at the garbage bag moving about the floorboard.
One of the birds squawk-mocked him from inside the bag. “Shut up!”
“No, you shut up!” he hollered.
“No, you shut up!” the bird hollered back.
Ugh. The damn birds were getting on his last nerve but, even so, he felt sorry for them. They had no idea what was going on. At least they’d be going to a good home. He assumed so, anyway. Someone who was willing to pay thousands of dollars for a bird would surely treat it good, wouldn’t they?
He’d taken the birds on impulse after overhearing someone say how much the birds sold for. It had been almost too easy, with the birds and a garbage bag in easy reach. They’d barely fit inside his big winter coat. He knew he’d been lucky. He could have been caught and sent back to prison. What’s the sentence for bird-napping?
He turned into the parking lot of a Dollar General store, taking a spot as far away from the doors and other cars as he could. Didn’t want someone hearing the birds and getting suspicious.
He scurried inside and headed straight for the prepaid phones. The last thing he needed after being fired from his job today was to spend money, but what choice did he have? He had to make a call, and he couldn’t make it from the cell phone he already owned. He had to make sure this call couldn’t be traced to him.