There’s a big bad ass blue bird who terrorizes the neighborhood. Last year he ate all the peppers in the garden. Now, an elaborate preventive barrier protects the various fruits and vegetables from the pecking, but the squawking is relentless. From my office window I can see him peering at me, mocking my attempts at productivity. If I go to the living room, he’ll appear in the bottle brush tree and send the similarly industrious hummingbirds off to escape the screeching, preening, bullying ways of our (now) mutual arch enemy. He wakes up early to interrupt the slumbers of my beloved. If I dare to cross the driveway, he’ll dive bomb with flapping wings that attempt to slap the groceries or school books in my hands. He is one tough bird.
He won’t listen to my instruction to pack up and leave town. The hummingbirds hover at a distance, thirsting for their nectar. The beloved threatens violence. We all wait anxiously for his next move. He is trouble. Nothing but trouble. Seems he’s launching an aggressive campaign that is intended to escalate a turf war. This can not be a good sign.
Writing Prompt: There is a sign on my path that says….