Down the street from Claude and Louise’s apartment is an exotic bird shop. A while ago a sign on the door said “Bird Owner’s Brunch Today,” and Claude thought it would be fun to see what that was all about. Claude used to have a thing for birds. The inside was painted pink and the walls were lined with cages full of small shrieking feathered things. Claude wanted to see the back courtyard, where the wire crates were kept on stilts. Bird owners were mingling out there, walking slowly with their pets on their shoulders and juice in their hands. The birds screamed and nipped at each other. Beaks stuck through honeycombed mesh, pecking anyone who stood too close. Muffins, fruit, and bowls of seeds were displayed, buffet style, on a card table that the birds trampled on. Claude stood in the corner, sunglasses on to protect his eyes, while Louise chatted with the owners, watchful for dangerous ones. There were too many out of their cages, Claude thought. Ladies in expensive knits let the birds climb into their sticky hair, using their ears as steps. Heavy gold earrings swung. A tan man in a Hawaiian shirt told Louise to hold out her arms, and together they made a bridge for his parrot to walk across. It bobbed its head as it walked toward Louise, stuck out its tongue, and tasted the tip of her nose. Louise had stood perfectly still. Claude ran up behind her, ready to swat the bird away, but the parrot leaped at him. It snapped Claude’s sunglasses in half.
Louise had laughed about it for the rest of the day, but Claude felt hurt and cheated by those birds. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.