11- A Tea Bag In The Bird's Mouth

It was very big, and I am very scared.
I wanted to go into the city to clear my head. I was on 8th Avenue, at Gregory’s. I wanted to get a cup of coffee to drink while there and a cup of tea for when I was leaving. I drank my coffee. Bought a muffin too. Nervously felt under the table for another USB or duct tape or something. My nerves have been so thoroughly rattled these last few months. Happy new year indeed!

I was going to take my tea and walk down to the Hudson, maybe go for a jog afterwards. The shadow passed quickly over me when I was walking down 34th. When I turned, I just saw a flag above and assumed the wind had pushed it. The second time it happened I got suspicious. After the warthog and the cougar, I was absolutely wary of any strange happenings. I looked around. I saw the birds, everywhere, all along the street lights and traffic poles and edges of buildings. It seemed like that were all looking directly at me. Not just at the street or at the people, but straight down on me. I had about half my muffin left. Sacrifices had to be made. I threw the half of my muffin into the middle of the street and these hundred birds swarmed down on it, pecking at the floor, at each other, just scrambling on each other for it. Cars stopped and people were stopping to take pictures and scare off the birds. I ran fast.
Made it past the Javits Center and right up to the foot path over looking the river. You could dive a few short feet right into the murky water. The path was empty. An uncommon sight, but not particularly rare. Not many people are out jogging at 9AM on a Wednesday.
I was making my way up the docks, towards the Intrepid. Seeing the aircraft they keep on the top deck was always a nice way to mark where along my jogs here I was. So, I was drinking my tea. Up on the top of the Intrepid, I saw something sitting right on the upper railing. I was right in the middle of out loud asking myself– what’s that? Just right there, talking to myself like a lunatic, what’s that?

It flapped and shot up into the air. There was a flash of light in the blue sky, just a sudden blinding beam. The gust of wind from it shot me backwards. This eagle was in front of me. It had to be the size of a big rig truck. It’s eye was the size of my whole head and it bent low. The eye was inches from my face. It blinked.

The tilted its head and grabbed the teabag that had spilt on the floor. Reached right into the cup and plucked it out. Then it shot into the sky again, knocked me right into the railing. I saw the flash again and it seemed to be streaming towards the Bronx.
I’m on the 1 Train going up to Riverdale now. Please, please, stay far away from the area of the Intrepid.

-A.

12- A Homunculus In A Homeless Shelter

10- An Umbrella On A Sunny Day