Early the next morning the water mouse rose from the Nest & Breakfast's traditional matchbox bed and listened to the faint chanting of the java sparrow priest and priestess in the Temple of The Bird Goddess, which hung high inside the small loggia of the hermitage. The water mouse was quite disappointed to find out that the sugar mouse had checked out at dawn and trekked back to its abode in the pantry of The Castle of Baking and Confectionery. Finishing up with a filling breakfast of six cheeses and milk it followed suit at the front office and waited outside. It knew that the delivery boy would pedal into the compound before midday. It would then hop onto the cart and ride all the way back to the loft of the water supply store on Arayat Street.
In the meantime the opalines who lived inside the Cage of The Cosmic Birds were literally a-flutter. Today was the day of their weekly lunch reunion with their gentle cousins, the Dreamer Birds, who were most gracious hosts and took their long-drawn mah jongg sessions seriously. The Dreamer Birds were a-flutter inside their cage as well, tidying up the interior and ensuring that everything was impeccable for their snooty neighbors. They had, in truth, a reputation to uphold.
The caterers had already arrived. They were house lizards from the upper floor of the hermitage. Three years ago they were smart in all black, and then all white became the coolest thing. Now their vests and cravats were in flamingo pink. They were the best catering service in town, and were some-time semi-finalists on the TV cookpetition Cold-Blooded Chefs, after which they established their by-now-popular and successful business Animal Feed. They were high-end pricey, but the Dream Birds adored them not only for their cuisine but also because they were incorrigible gossips. They knew everything about everyone in the neighborhood, including human beings, whom they regularly spied on in their most private moments, and, of course, the inhabitants of the animal and insect kingdoms.
Everything was ready when the opalines pulled on the front doorbell and the Dreamer Birds chirpfully received them. The house lizards served them Polly crackers and iced fruit juice in toothpaste caps while they chatted in the parlor. Lunch ensued in the dining room--a semi-formal, summer affair of chilled rice wine from Baguio City, vichyssoise, flower salad, and banana heart with mixed seeds. There were three desserts: cream float, raisin pie, and caramel crystals.
The mah jongg session was held, as usual, in the lanai. Two house lizards discreetly packed up their gear, another two washed the dishes, while yet another two waited on the tile players. During a break in the game, the female Dreamer Bird took the head waiter aside to settle their bill. The head waiter gave her a knowing wink and whispered, I see, madame, that you haven't gotten over him yet.
Gotten over who? the Dreamer Bird gasped.
Why, the African love bird you were deeply in love with, in the bird man's breeding cage in P_________, many years ago, the head waiter replied.
Is it written all over my feathered face? the Dreamer Bird asked herself. She took a deep breath and held a wingtip to her beak. She was shocked shocked shocked by this shocking message from the head waiter, more shocking than his shocking pink vest and cravat.
No comments:
Post a Comment