The Owl's TV Program

The barn owl, displaced from his native home, sat perched on a branch outside a window and watched the creature within.

There was a lot of noise in the room, and the owl decided to ignore it. None of the words made sense, nothing formed into a sensible pattern, so it was unimportant. What it witnessed was this strangely-tinted man storm into his room, grab a small box, and flop into his own perch.

The owl saw madness in the man’s eyes. He saw the look of a predator who’s been deprived of his prey time and time again. The man was starving. And the owl was certain the man believed the small box he held would provide him nourishment.

“Hoo,” said the owl, as he tilted his head. He observed as the man jabbed his fingers, for that’s what the creature had instead of talons, against the box in ever increasing speed. And he saw as the man turned a deeper shade of orange, then throw the box away from him.

“Hoo,” said the owl, surmising the box held no food. It shifted a little on its branch, adjusting his position to get a better view of the drama playing out before him.

The creature with the now reddened skin pressed a button and made some loud noises into it. Soon after, he saw as another two creatures entered the room. They looked nervous and the male had beads of sweat across his brow.

“Hoo,” said the owl, believing the orange-tinted man had set these new creatures up to be his prey. This was going to be the culmination of the hunt. The man would finally feed.

But the owl was wrong. The man merely screamed at these two potential sources of sustenance, and seemed to froth a bit at the mouth. The owl grew nervous. He’d seen other creatures with this sort of frothing, and that always spoke of madness, illness, and death. He was glad there was that clear protection between him and the man.

The female creature spoke to the man, who responded by yelling at her more. He approached her and she backed off.

“This is it…” the owl thought to himself. “He’s going to feed now…”

But the female creature escaped, almost running from the room. In the meantime, the owl saw the other creature inching towards the door. The owl kept watching as the male victim became the target of the man’s wrath. Eventually, the male victim managed to flee, and the orange-tinted man picked up a different little box. He jabbed at it once, and a bunch of flat images of other creatures appeared in a bigger box. The man sat and watched it, his skin tone never lightening, his eyes never calming. As the man watched, he grew angrier and angrier.

The owl was still watching while the two hapless victims appeared underneath the tree he perched in. He tilted his head, deciding to listen more closely to them. He wanted to know how they escaped being the man’s supper.

“He’s insane,” said the female. “I think I need to resign.”

“Me too,” said the male. “I only stayed because my wife told me to. I’ve felt scared for too long now.”

“No shit,” said the female. “He’s gone too far, this time. And I don’t think he’s going to get away scott-free this time.”

The male flashed a smile that made the owl re-evaluate him. This was no victim. He, too, was a predator. “Good. Let him rot. We need to protect ourselves.”

The two walked off and left the owl alone once more. He turned his attention to the man in the room again. He was on his feet once more and pacing in front of the creatures in the box. He was yelling at them, but they didn’t seem to hear him.

“Hoo,” said the owl, and bent to pick at a feather that had lain poorly. He looked back to see two more male creatures enter the room, followed by a female creature. The male creatures were in one sort of outfit, the female in another. The males walked towards the man, and a scuffle ensued. Before the owl could say “Hoo” one final time, the orange man was wrangled into a white outfit, his arms behind his back, and was being led away.

“I guess,” thought the owl, “he caught his prey…himself.”