Bernie Tries to Fly

I wrote this several years ago when I still gave a birds butt about politicians and their lies. I used one of their names in the title, but the name can be changed to suit your own opinion/affiliation. Almost everyone chooses a destination, what flight path they will take, and the “leader” they think can get them there, and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s the love-or-hate, my-way-or-the-highway, thing we’ve evolved to that caused me to step aside, and that, my friends, is pretty much the point of this sordid little tale.

Bernie Tries to Fly

It was a crazy idea, and I refused to have anything to do with it. I said, “I’ll watch, but that’s it. I want nothing to do with your feather-brained scheme.”

The rest of them gave me beady-eyed sidelong glances, like they thought I was the one who’d lost his mind. One of them chirped as he idled past me. “Get your fine-feathered, uppity, butt out here and help us!”

“Nope,” I said watching as he attached the harness to the others. “He’s just using you, and when he finds out he can’t fly, even with all of you doing the actual work, what then?”

Several of them looked in at me with wide, knowing eyes, understanding exactly what I was saying. They knew once the fool saw his plan was failing, he’d blame them, and then cast them aside like the newspaper that lined the bottom of their cages.

birds in a cageI was at first shocked when he grabbed the cage, thereby including me in the doomed scheme he’d forced upon us, then realized it was all part of the plan; If I did not participate, I could not share the blame, and so I had no choice in the matter. Somehow, in his twisted mind, we were all destined to be equal; whether it was to be bounty or scraps, the spoils would be shared by all. Really?

The flock began to fight among themselves. The weaker ones tried to flee, but tethered as they were, remained within striking distance of the stronger. There was no escape. I watched in horror as my friends tore at each other and one-by-one began to fall.

The man screamed at them to stop, but his shouts could not be heard above their cacophony of rage. When at last he stopped running, and stood amid feathers, blood, and bodies, only a few of the flock remained. The survivors fluttered to the grass and wobbled as far away from him as the harness would allow. He set my cage upon the ground and then sat down facing me. He stared blankly into my dark and angry eyes, both of us wondering which of us, truly, was caged.


Copyright © 2013 C Mashburn


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