Or the lack there-of
A Short Story by Zelig X
I mean - a really short story by Zelig X
It wasn’t immediately reported in the press. In fact, most people weren’t even immediately aware of it. Just the Ornithologists. And not many people paid attention to bird watchers these days. More and more people had come to grapple with the troubling question, “Is something you can do with a Dry Martini in your hand really a sport?”
Still, there were others.
David Jenkins and his family were sitting at a Quiznos outdoor table in Alameda, quietly chatting over sandwiches and sodas. They were a typical Alamedan family. Working class, dysfunctional, tied down with bills and most of all, typical.
It was a beautiful Alameda, Northern California summer day. A light breeze, sun, a few clouds in the sky, you get the picture.
Mr. Jenkins was thinking about his glasses; “I need new glasses”, he thought. For the most part, he lived in his head, always thinking these sorts of deep thoughts. Oh yes, he might appear to be listening and joined in the conversation. He might even say to his daughter, “Yes dear, if you keep practicing your guitar you might be like that girl in No Doubt and then your parents won’t have to work anymore”, but really, he was much more engrossed with a dialogue in his own head of deep import.
“I remember when I got my first pair of glasses. How sharp everything looked. The leaves on the trees…” ran the course of his thoughts when Mrs. Jenkins commented that she liked the sandwiches at Subway better. Both the daughter and the son agreed. Mr. Jenkins said, “I think that Quizno’s is fresher”, as he said this he jiggled his glasses slightly and looked up towards the distance… The daughter said something about Subway sandwiches tasting more like the way sandwiches should taste than Quiznos sandwiches…but Mr. Jenkins was trying to tell if the leaves on the trees looked as crisp and sharp as they should.
“What if I was going blind?”, he thought and it suddenly occurred to him how precious was the gift of sight and how you don’t appreciate a thing until it is gone. He wanted to see. He wanted to see the distinction and contrast in the things around him. He studied the trees harder. He suddenly became aware of how many trees there were about him.
For the most part, the Jenkins family ignored the man of the family. They had long ago grown accustomed to his wandering attention. They continued to discuss the many ways in which Subway was superior to Quiznos. “It’s just that I don’t like the pepperonis”, the daughter stated matter-of-factly.
Mr. Jenkins was thinking about his sight, he was thinking about the trees. As he glanced about he added other things to his list; first clouds, then the passengers in passing cars, a drab-yellow fire hydrant, and finally, birds.
He wasn’t looking for a Stilt Sandpiper, or a Baird Sandpiper, or any other species of bird you could name. He didn’t even know the difference between a “Stilt” and a “Baird”. And if you had challenged Mr. Jenkins to name off all the species of birds he could in sixty seconds he would have said, “owl, pigeon, blue jay, hawk, eagle, crow, woodpecker, sparrow, robin, common redpoll, northern flicker, yellow-rumped warbler, rhododendron, … oh wait, that’s a … that’s not a bird. How much time do I have left?”
Mr. Jenkins was a typical Alamedan and typical Alamedans didn’t think about birds. No, typical Alamedans thought about … well, sandwiches. “I ate half of my sandwich”, the daughter announced, “Can I eat the rest later?” “Right”, said Mr. Jenkins, “We know what will happen to that sandwich after we get home.” “What?” the daughter asked, but Mr. Jenkins was thinking in a very un-Alamedan way and said to his family, “Have you noticed that there aren’t any birds?”
The family all sat upright at attention, they looked at each other and then they looked from side to side. They were silent for a few moments.
Presently the son spoke, “Weird”, he said rather profoundly. “Yes, weird”, the Jenkins family agreed. … “Dad?” “Yes” “What will happen to my sandwich after we get home?”
But Mr. Jenkins was lost in thought.
Mr. Jenkins thought, “What if all the birds in the world just … vanished all at once? How long would it take for people to notice? For everyone to know? How would that change things? Would they blame Bush?” Mr. Jenkins was relieved to be thinking about the sudden loss of all the birds in the world because he no longer had to think about losing his vision. “No birds”, he thought, “that would make a GREAT STORY! The opposite of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1963 thriller, The Birds!”
After they finished eating, Mrs. Jenkins announced that she needed to get something from the Albertsons across the way. Mr. Jenkins, still looking all about, added in an absent-minded manner, “I need to pick up a shirt from the dry cleaners”.
As they walked across the parking lot a black-capped chickadee swooped down from the roof of the Albertsons and dropped something icky on Mr. Jenkins head.
The End
Thank you, thank you,
Sincerely,
Zelig X, GAG
Aug 04