Everybody Arrives Carrying a Different Map

I wonder what I could get for this piano.

My sister's broke.

Short story.

Hell. Maybe I shouldn't tell it.

Another dispatch from Scott Evers. Read for you by Geezer III.

That would be a bird screaming I’d say.

Marvelous.

Sounds like somebody's being arrested.

Phone.

— hello.

—

— yes sir.

—

— any day next week works.

—

— no no.

— i've still got my tools.

—

— actually my sister got put out of her house.

—

— you can hear that. that's the Sulphur Crested Cockatoo.

—

— australian i think.

—

— no.

— that's not the same bird.

— local roadrunner's in the garage too.

—

— you'd be surprised.

—

— alright, Cal.

— i'll see you then.

There.

Ladies and gentleman.

You spend sixty years trying to keep your house from becoming a pet shop and one family emergency later you're negotiating with wildlife.

My sister Lauren.

Oldest of us.

Currently homeless and distributed across several households along with a small airborne civilization.

I took some of the birds.

Fred declined.

To be fair, Fred can barely afford gasoline.

Got one in the garage.

One in the living room.

Finches in the kitchen.

Dogs seem confused by the arrangement.

Can't blame them.

Used to be a respectable household.

Now every room's got a representative.

Phone.

— lauren.

—

— where are you now.

—

— alright.

—

— yes.

— i know.

The finches are carrying on in the kitchen now.

Tiny little things.

Sound like they're conducting union business.

—

— what.

—

— no.

— i don't think that's true.

—

— evil?

That's a hell of a word.

And the Cockatoo.

—

— apparently he agrees.

—

— no.

— i'm serious.

—

— you really mean evil.

I can hear her making the case, my sister.

Landlords.

Work.

Government.

People with resources who could help and don't.

Everybody seems angry.

Everybody seems tired.

Everybody seems ready for a fight.

There it is again.

Intense.

I know what she means.

It's not even the disagreement.

It's the temperature. Everybody just seems wound up.

—

— hold on.

— let me connect Fred.

A few buttons. This one. This. I thought. Shit. Okay.

—

— fred.

—

— there he is.

—

— lauren thinks evil's on the rise.

—

— yes.

— actual evil.

—

— rent.

—

— that's your explanation?

—

— just rent.

—

— alright.

What'd you say? You have to speak up.

Lauren doesn't care for that answer.

—

— no.

— i don't imagine she does.

Families are funny.

Everybody arrives carrying a different map.

Same territory.

Different map.

...

Strangest bird I've ever met.

Looks like he should be solving crimes.

—

— no fred.

— capitalism isn't evil.

—

— capitalism's capitalism.

—

— yes.

— that's very helpful.

—

—

The piano. What else could it be?

Quiet.

I don't play.

Not really.

Just enough to bother musicians.

—

— lauren.

—

— i'm not taking sides.

—

— no.

— that's not what i said.

...

The cockatoo again.

Good lord.

I've learned more about birds in two weeks than I ever intended to know.

This one gets pellets.

That one gets fruit.

The finches scatter seed across three counties every morning.

The roadrunner requires his own arrangement entirely.

Nobody warned me.

Funny thing.

First couple days I couldn't wait to get rid of them.

Now I find myself checking everybody before bed.

Making sure the water's fresh.

Making sure nobody's upset.

That's how they get you.

—

— yes.

— rescue birds.

I know.

That's the trouble.

Most of them were rescued from someplace worse.

Which raises an interesting question.

Is it evil to keep birds in cages?

—

— no no.

— don't answer that.

—

— i already regret asking.

This piano. Don't know if I could lose it.

Bird's like it.

Hmm.

Funny thing.

Everybody's diagnosing the world.

Evil.

Capitalism.

Human nature.

Meanwhile these birds require breakfast regardless of who wins the argument.

Maybe that's why people keep caring for things.

Dogs.

Birds.

Children.

Each other.

Not because we've solved anything.

Nope. It's more like it's because mornings just keep on arriving.

—

— alright darlin'.

—

— yes.

— i'll tell him.

—

— love you too.

—

— fred.

—

— yes.

— drive careful.

—

— i know.

—

— goodbye.

Christ, the water pressure.

One requires calcium apparently.

One requires berries.

One requires something called enrichment.

I'm afraid to ask.

—

— no offense.

— you're lovely.

Water.

Tray.

Bird.

Water.

Tray.

Bird.

Well.

Long as they're headed someplace with better care soon.

That's alright.

Really all you can ask for.

...

I'm getting a little old for this.

Fuckin' cockatoo answers from the garage.

Fair enough.

Fair enough.