The Little Black Bird

“Shoo, demon bird, get off of me!” I yelled and swatted.

A bird with glowing red eyes had started following me a few weeks ago, every day its visits were a little more frequent. Today was the worst so far, no matter where I went it wouldn’t leave me alone.

I traveled a great distance to get away from this bird, even buying airline tickets to Hawaii. But the second I stepped off the plane, there it was again. A few days later I returned home, and now it won’t leave me alone.

Had I stepped on this birds nest or provoked it somehow? If only I could talk to birds and ask it what I had done wrong, I would apologize and be done with this.

“Ouch, stop pecking at my face, stupid bird,” I shouted and people were staring at me.

I looked around as I started to run away, and I had spotted a bookstore. I ran inside and stopped to take a breath. As luck would have it, it didn’t follow me in. I looked behind me and noticed the bird had landed in a tree, waiting for me to come out. I gave it the finger and smiled. I’m not sure why the bird had decided to wait for me outside, but I was certainly going to take my time and stay here for a while.

Browsing the bookstore provided a nice break from that constant squawking and noise. I decided to get a book on hunting, and another on small birds and a third book on how to get rid of demons, because I’m certain this bird is possessed. I was going to figure out how to get rid of this thing one way or another. I went to the cashier and he rung me up, occasionally looking up in a suspicious manner. It seemed as though he was trying to hold his breath, and I had asked what was wrong.

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but you smell like you came from the gym,” the cashier said.

“Don’t worry, you’re not being rude. I’ve been trying to outrun a bird all day,” I said.

“Outrun a bird, sir?” The cashier inquired.

“Never mind. What do I owe you?” I asked.

“Thirty six ninety seven, sir,” the cashier said. I took out my card, paid him and started walking out.

I got to the doors and looked through the window. There was no sign of the bird. I peeked out the door and looked up. No birds up there either. I left the building and started walking to my car. I unlocked my doors and sat down, and as I was closing the door I saw the bird perched on the roof of bookstore. I ignored it. I started to back out of the parking space, but before I could, the window of the driver’s seat shattered. I felt something soft hit my shoulder. I put it on my finger and looked at it. Bird poop… my demon bird was now in my car.

I stepped on the gas and sped off. The bird landed on my shoulder, then I swatted it out the window. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the bird flying next to me. How was it keeping up at thirty five miles per hour? I decided to get on the freeway. Maybe if I go faster, I’ll lose it. I’ve tried to outrun the bird before, but never on the freeway. I immediately sped up after I entered, but it was still keeping up with my car. I pushed the gas pedal to the ground, forcing my old sedan to a hundred and two miles per hour and hoping my engine wouldn’t catch fire and the police wouldn’t take notice. It couldn’t possibly keep up with me now.

When I finally got to my house, I went around the block twice before swerving into my garage. I looked behind me and I left tread marks. But I couldn’t fool this damned thing.

“Damn!” I shouted. This was infuriating. I got out of the car and the bird, as usual, started pecking at me. A small stream of blood started pouring down my face. I swatted it away and ran inside. I slammed the door and was able to lock it out. This is it, final straw. When you make me bleed, you’re going down. I stormed upstairs and grabbed my rifle and two small pistols. I checked to make sure they were loaded, then went back to the garage. The bird was pecking at the door, drilling a hole through it. I aimed the rifle and started shooting. I couldn’t hit it. It quickly moved to other spots on the door, dodging each shot until I was out of ammo.

“Damn you, spawn of Satan,” I shouted.

I went back inside to try something else. Then I heard a loud tapping at the door. The bird was trying to get in again. I can’t take this anymore, I’m going crazy. I grabbed two of the most powerful chemicals I had under the sink, poured them into a spray bottle, then went to go take care of my little bird problem. When I got back to the door, the bird had pecked a hole through it.

“That’s right bird, come get some,” I shouted and pointed the bottle.

When it came flying through the hole, I sprayed at it but missed. If I could just hit it once I knew I could take it down.

After an hour of storming through the house and spraying at the flying terror from hell, the bottle was down to its last few drops.

I took a deep breath, said to myself ‘you can do this,’ and sprayed. I finally hit it. It made a crackling laugh that I hadn’t heard it make before. The spray didn’t seem to affect the bird at all.

I decided to run.

“I hate to do this to you, Devil Bird, but I’m getting in the car and taking off! I’m not sorry…” I said.

I grabbed the door knob and the bird started pecking at my hand. It wouldn’t let me leave. I started swatting at it again, but this time it was able to dodge my hand. I walked over to my couch and sat down. I had decided to patiently wait until it was sleeping so I could quietly walk back to the door.

I had to wait on my couch for several hours as it flew around, poked me incessantly, made the most annoying sounds, and, after making a giant hole in my refrigerator, stole all my food. To my delight, it eventually did fall asleep. I snuck outside, hoped the fence, used the side door to get into my garage, got in my car and took off.

I drove for about an hour before I wound up parking outside a bakery. I walked inside and sat down at a table. I was hesitantly looking around for about five minutes before the man behind the counter, who had a chef’s hat on despite the fact he was just a cashier, said “can I help you, sir?”

“No, I’m just…” Then the window shattered. It was the damned bird.

“Quick, get me something to throw!” I said, while leaning down.

“What, why?” the cashier said.

“The bird, obviously,” I said.

Something breaks through the window and the idiot asks why I would want to throw something at it? He was still standing and staring at me.

“Just do it!” I yelled.

“Okay, okay,” he said, and tossed me a bag of flour. I ripped open the bag, grabbed a fist full of the white powder, and threw it at the bird. It let out a screech and fell to the ground.

“After all I did, that’s all it took? Really, a little flour?” I went over to the bird, lifted up my shoe and was about to stomp the life out of the hell spawn when I heard a little girls voice say “please mister, don’t hurt it! Don’t hurt the cute little bird.”

I turned my head. I felt bad for the girl and took my foot away. I looked down at the bird. Maybe the girl had a point, it was a pitiful sight. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the thing, despite the trouble it’s caused. It was just lying on the ground, seemingly incapable of flight. It sounded like it was crying, and I picked it up. Maybe if I nursed it back to health, it would become nice and hopefully stop attacking me. That night, I had gone home with the bird and fed it a decent sized meal. And, of course, after eating each piece of food, it regurgitated it on my shirt.

“I’m officially naming you Lucifer’s Fowl,” I said.

I had done my best to take care of the bird, but the kindness I had hoped for wasn’t meant to be. It had now been nine months since I adopted Lucifer’s Fowl, and what I had desperately wanted had not occurred. Every day that passed, I expected it to get better. He was just as mean as ever. And starting last month, it was always laughing with this horrid crackling sound. He had permanently perched himself on my shoulder, knowing it made me miserable. I should have killed it when I had the chance, but now every time I try its laugh only gets louder. The shrill sound was so loud, it caused my body to freeze and prevented me from smashing Lucifer’s Fowl to pieces. But so long as the birds happy, then at least one of us is happy.

Maybe, just maybe, if I could find that little girl at the bakery, the bird would go with her. I lost my job and a few dates walked out on me because of this creepy devil bird. I’ve decided I must get rid of it after all.

I went back to the bakery to find the girl, and she wasn’t there. I wasn’t sure what to do, I couldn’t just sit here until the girl showed up again. What if she never came back to the bakery? I’d decided to wait an hour, and if she didn’t show up I’d have to learn to live with the bird.

After waiting and waiting, I was about to leave and I heard the door open. Maybe this was her.

It wasn’t the girl. It was a lone grey cat with black stripes. It walked forward, took a long, deep sniff, looked at the bird, and pounced on it, eating it whole.

“Hey, thanks buddy, where were you nine months ago?” I asked. It looked at me, started rubbing against my leg and purred.

I began to walk out of the store, and I felt the cat rub against my leg again. I looked down and the cat was standing next me. The cat looked up, and I looked into the cat’s eyes and they were glowing red, just like the birds.

It purred, then hissed at me. “Don’t worry, buddy…” I sighed. “I’ll take care of you…” I rolled my eyes as it followed me into my car.

“Hop in,” I said, opened the door and cried.

Copyright © February 20, 2006 by Alex H. Mittelman. All rights reserved.