Tweets -

Here's a little something I wrote up while in a fit of rainy day
boredom.
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The adventures of Brant Dunlin - Private Investigator

I was in the Condor Club and right next to me there were two chicks, a
raven haired beauty and a redhead. On a lark I decided that I wanted to
chat, but I had to crane my neck to see 'em. I don't want to snipe or
grouse, but when I turned around one of them was puffin away on a
cigarette - I wanted to thrasher or at least rail about what a cuckoo
she was for taking up this fowl habit. Instead of making a move I
decided to listen in on the gulls, I was in the catbird seat, and got
quite an ear full - I really couldn't believe what I was heron.

The woman with the black hair was named Barbet and her friend was Robin.
Barbet said "Can you sparrow match?" Robin obliged. "Thanks, you know,
that bustard Martin is a real loon, he asked if he could touch my tit -
I said, "What?" and he said he liked my booby - I told him to go fly a
kite. "Yep, he's a creeper all right, and not too swift", Robin
replied, "he wanted to goose me, that turkey.". "Look Barbet, there he
is, after Rhea!". "Owl tell ya' he'll egret it (Barbet was British),
she's a harpy and she won't quail at his advances - she'll wrap a
nutcracker around his peewee - that'll be his swan song." "Yeah", said
Robin "But willet do any good?"

Just then I saw Martin swallow hard, move over to Rhea, and try to
dipper. Rhea flew off and took a swing and Martin had to duck and he
dove to the floor under the table bunting. There was a flicker in
Rhea's eye, she came over to sing to Barbet and Robin. "Martin said
that Jay told him I was easy , if I wouldn't give it away I'd at least
wrentit!". "Oh Rhea", said Robin, "That old coot Jay isn't worth your
time, and if Martin doesn't straighten up soon they'll throw him down
the nuthatch". "Either that or get a shoveler to bury the old buzzard -
he's so yucky, harrier than a gorilla". "Yeah, those toucan go to
Hell".

By this time I knew to say nothing, and to not even try to be an avocet
to their cause. My cardinal rule is to let the canary sing before you
take your tern. I'm no rook or sapsucker and I didn't need an albatross
around my neck, so I just stayed mute and walked away - besides the
Falcon needed petrel - so I went to fill it up. At least I'd remembered
to get cash out of the nightjar. Teal we meet again, Brant Dunlin
signing off.

Copyright '98

Rob Conway
Bellevue, WA

robin_ Conway at hotmail.com

<O) // "Icarus was a waxwing, and none too swift"
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