Once upon a time, there was a little ruffled bird who lived in a grand little cage.
It was a splendid home for a birdy, to be sure; it was made of thick green wire with perches and toys aplenty. Little tomato vines wound around the whole thing, up to the hook that hung it from the ceiling. It was placed right in front of the window, perfect for basking in the sun and catching breezes.
I was curious about this bird, though. No matter how good his life had to be, he did not sing. One day this curiosity got the best of me and I wandered up to his cage. He looked up at me, a little angry that I was disturbing his peace. He ruffled and shook, making himself looking twice as big as he really was.
"Little bird," I implored of him. "Why do you sit in your cage but never sing? Are you not happy?"
"Oh," said he, "I think I'm happy. But I don't have a song to sing. Why would I sing when there's nothing to sing about?"
I was utterly bewildered; he thought he was happy? I asked him about this and he chirped a little, the closest thing, I assumed, that he could get to laughing ironically.
"The man who keeps me here likes to sing my songs for me. He tells me that I love him and he tells me that he's happy, so I should be, too. And I say yes. It's easier."
 men getting pregnant · Sun Apr 25, 2010 @ 03:27am · 0 Comments |
