So, how do you tell if an Anhinga is interested? I know that with the males, they get into this breeding plumage that includes a bright blue circle of color around the eye (an eye ring), but, dude, what about the chicks? Anyway, lately this not knowing if someone is interested has been like the bane of my egg-sistence. And honestly, I haven't been wanting to put myself out there on the dating scene. Well, I do, but I'm scared. Why? A few reasons. One, because I'm chicken. Two, because I have a very fragile egg-o. And three, because sometimes I feel like chicks just don't understand me. Perhaps I'm too complex. You know, what with the whole "trying to hide what it is that I really want" game. As in, I am going to talk with you and pretend like I am listening while you talk to me about things that are important to you, and then I am going to try to act sincere, and like I care about how you feel, and then I'm going to maybe give you something, a token, of how strongly I feel about you, something like a ring maybe (hmmm, I wonder if chicks might dig it if I wore a blue eye ring, like those male Anhingas, the show-offs), or at least some dinner and then you could come hang out at my coop for a little while and then I would never want to see you again. That's really what I wanted, I just didn't want to say so. Oh, and in case I don't have any dates lined up for next weekend, perhaps I'd want to see you again then, but only in that particular case. Otherwise, I don't know you.
Why don't chicks understand that about me?
I'm thinking of a love song for my new beloved. No, wait! It's a poem. Here goes:
Anhinga, anhinga,
my lord you look divine,
Anhinga, anhinga,
I wish you would be mine,
and by the way,
do you have any friends?
Why?
Just askin'.
Your,
"Sure I'm monogamous, baby" Chicken
Dearest Big Chicken,
ReplyDeleteI know I said I was leaving you, but I just couldn't stand being away. I missed your sexy drum sticks, that red floppy thing on your head, and the way your tail feathers are always a bit askew.
I hooked up with some other guy who dresses as a chicken for a while - he was a lawyer or accountant or something, and he had this weird fetish for knees. Cree-py.
Look, I know I wasn't the best girlfriend. I was possessive, and clingy, and I made you carry my purse everywhere. But I want you back Big Chicken. I'll even forgive all those times you said that I put the "kook" in kookaburra. That was a very hurtful thing for you to say over and over, but I'm past that. I'm willing to move on.
If we get back together, I have just a few very small conditions...
1. Stop writing love poems to other women
2. Stop dating other women
3. Stop trying to date my mother
4. Preen me whenever I feel like I need preening
5. If you eat a meal without me, regurgitate some of it into my mouth later
6. Don't think about other women
7. Get rid of your loser friends
8. Live to serve my needs
9. Give up your stupid dreams
Fair enough?
Love,
Kookaburra
Kookaburra - you're back! Oh, hey baby, how's it going? Sure, I'll do whatever you'd like. Anything you ask. Just name it. Just PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME AGAIN! I CAN HARDLY BEAR THE THOUGHT OF LIFE WITHOUT YOU! I don't care if I have to carry your stupid purse (because it's really quite cute), I don't care if I'm publicly barred from dating your mother (because we can always keep that going on the side) I don't care about those cherished life-long dreams and goals that I've had for, well, for my whole life.
ReplyDeleteOf course, I'll quit dating other women. You know they never meant anything to me anyway. It was always you, you kooky little thing. You were always the primary source of craziness in my life (the other chicks were ALWAYS secondary, or even tertiary. Always were, always will be.) No one else but you could ever put the "kook" in kookaburra. (You're so cute when you play like you're hurt. What are doing that for? Are you trying to lead predators away from the nest?)
(Funny that you should show up now, just when things are gettin' interesting with that one Anhinga who just moved in the neighborhood down by the pond....)
By the way, you don't actually read the parentheticals, do you?
Love you, too, sweetcakes!
Your,
BC