“Psst, hey buddy, over here!” I heard a tiny voice say.
I glanced over from the park bench I was sitting on, but all I saw was a ragged-feathered bird.
I returned to reading my paper, but after a brief moment, I heard the voice again.
“Hey buddy, I said over here!” the small voice said, a bit more stridently.
I lowered my paper and looked again, but saw only the bird.
Then, the bird spoke.
“Yeah. Dat’s right Tweed-sheets, It’s me that’s talking. Da boid.”
I looked incredulously at the small creature. I wasn’t quite sure of the breed, but it wasn’t a parrot or any other of the ‘talking birds.’ And even they did not converse.
“Yo! Silent type. You swallow your tongue?”
The bird hopped closer.
“Listen stuffed shirt, I bet you’re sittin’ there thinkin,’ ‘Hey, dis ain’t no Parrot.'”
The bird sneered at me. I didn’t even know a bird could sneer.
“So, doikey-poik, here’s how it is. I’m a Pecker… A Wood Pecker. But more to the point, I’m not only a Pecker, I’m also a dick.”
I was nonplussed.
“So yeah, College Rah, while you’re sittin’ there all incredulous and nonplussed, here’s the deal.”
The bird looked at me with steely, dead bird eyes. I knew he meant business.
“You’re gonna go down the snack stand and buy a bag of Popcorn — small will do — then bring it back here and feed it to me. Otherwise, your fancy duds… Covered in Pecker crap.”
So, as I trudged down to the snack bar, I knew I had met my match.
Bested by a bird.
A pecker, to be exact.
And definitely, I knew, his first name was indeed, certainly Richard.