The Turn
And the Robins bobbed across the yard, seeking worms, singing their morning song. Meanwhile, the humans…
I ain’t one to complain…
Then don’t start.
Well, hell, at least hear me out!
Hear what—you not complaining?
Forget it.
Already have.
Good. Next time I have somethin’ to say…
Yeah? Next time what?
Next time I’ll find someone who don’t disrespect me!
This is about what I figured you not complaining would sound like.
I ain’t made of stone you know. I have feelings.
Lord almighty. Feelings? Feelings? How about I give you
something to complain about?
Sure. Go for it. Give me something to complain about.
What? What do you mean?
I mean I’m done with your bullshit. Give me something to complain about
and I’ll give you something back.
Oh really?
Yes. Really. In fact, pack your shit and get out. Right fucking now.
Wait. What? Are you serious?
I won’t ask a second time. Don’t say another word to me. Get out. Now.
And the Robins bobbed across the yard, seeking worms, singing their morning song.
2 thoughts on "The Turn"
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Laura – I like how nature is so unconcerned with something so immediate to humans.
Thank you, Sylvia. I would guess birds face death more directly than humans each morning, yet still they sing.