Making Conversation

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
The chance meeting of two individuals with nothing in common.

Submitted: September 21, 2016

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Submitted: September 21, 2016

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"Do, ta-do, ta-do, ta-do, Do, ta-Lottie-do.  Do, ta-do, ta-do, ta-do, Do, ta-Lottie-do. Oh La, twittely-dee, twittely, twittely-dum, the carpenter tried to hit the nail, but instead he hit his thumb.  Do, ta-do, ta-do, ta-do, Do, ta-Lottie..."

 

"What kind of stupid song is that?" asked a Magpie that was seated in a tree.

 

"It is not a stupid song," replied the pint-sized girl-child, "it is my song so I will decide if it is a good one or not! Besides, you should mind your own Beeswax; after all, I wasn't singing to you, you two-toned Crow."

 

The Magpie questioned that statement by asking, "And who do you think you are talking to? I'll have you know that I am Quentin Cawloader and you should be happy that I am even talking to you."

 

"Quentin who?" asked the girl child. "That name doesn't ring any bells, as far as I know you are just another talking Magpie. 

 

"Do you meet a lot of talking Magpies, little girl?"  Quentin asked.

 

"Don't call me little girl, my name is Dotty. And NO, I have never met another talking Magpie, but I'll bet that there are a lot of them."

 

"Well there are not a lot of us; the Cawloader family is the only talking Magpie's that I am aware of." Quentin said while strutting along a split-rail fence.

 

"You learn something every day," Dotty exclaimed, and off she went down the dusty road; Do, ta-do, ta-do, ta-do, Do, ta-Lottie-do."

 

"Hay, wait a minute!" said Quentin, as he flew to a tree-branch just in front of Dotty. "I'm not finished talking to you."

 

"But I might be finished talking to you, Mr. Quentin Caw-a-lot, (?), or whatever your name is."

 

"Quentin Cawloader is my name and you are being rude, that is not kind!"

 

Dotty laughed and replied, "And you were being rude when you said that my song was stupid. So I guess that turn-around is fare play, now we are even." With that said, Dotty continued down the road.

 

"Alright, alright, I apologize! I was a terrible bird, a heartless feathered creature who cast aside your young tinder feelings just so that I might ..."

 

"Oh Geez," Dotty exclaimed! "Give the Drama a rest, will you? I have to find Bessie and I have to find Bessie before dark. Got it? So no more of these delay tactics, just tell me what you want and be done with it."

 

"I was just trying to make conversation and I suppose that I could have done a better job of it. Look, I don't have anyone to talk to and most adult humans think that Magpies are pests, so they run me off before I have a chance to start a dialog. And even if I was able to talk to one of them, then they might put me in cage, or even worse, in a circus; (Come see the talking Magpie, one dollar!), now that is a scary thought!

However, talking to you would be different."

 

Dotty thought for a moment and asked, "How would it be different?"

 

Quentin made squawking sounds, maybe it was a laugh, and asked Dotty, "What would happen if you told an adult that you met a talking Magpie?"

 

Dotty placed her right elbow in her left hand, then she began rubbing her chin with her thumb and forefinger while she looked up at the sky, she often did that while thinking.

"Well I guess that they would think that I was making stuff up. They do that whenever I tell them about the Pixies bathing in the birdbath, or the white Unicorn that sometimes grazes in the meadow during foggy mornings."

"That is exactly what I'm saying, I can talk to a kid and adults will never believe them," Quentin replied.

 

Dotty thought for another moment and then asked, "So where is your family, don't they talk to you?"

Quentin answered by saying, "I am the youngest, my brother and two sisters decided to look for greener pastures, that is not a figure of speech, they actually flew off looking for greener pastures, and I haven't seen them sense. As far as Mom's and Dad's whereabouts, I don't know."

Dotty began to feel sorry for this friendless, family-less, bird; she can relate.

It seems that Dotty's parents got in some trouble, so they won't be coming home real soon; that is why Dotty lives with Nana and Papa.

And there aren’t a lot of kids her age living anywhere close by, so school is her only chance of interaction with them; maybe that will change as she gets older, but she isn't counting on anything.

None-the-less, right now Dotty has more pressing problem, finding Bessie the wayward cow. 

"Look, Quentin, how about you help me out and then we can talk. All you need to do is fly up high and look at the ground, all around, if you see Bessie then fly down here and tell me what direction to go to find her."

"The flying up there is not a problem, finding one cow among what are sure to be many is a problem" Quentin replied.

Dotty laughed and said, "I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you, you won't have any problem spotting Bessie, my grandma put a straw-hat on her head because she has some sort of eye problem; the Vet said to keep direct sunlight out of her eyes until she is better."

With that information obtained, Quentin flew skyward and returned in just a few minutes. And when he landed he flew down into a corn field that was very near the dirt road that Dotty was standing on.

"Where did you go?" Dotty questioned.

Quentin replied, "Just follow my voice. --- Marco!"

"Polo!"

"Marco"

"Polo!"

"Marco"

"Polo!"

"Marco"

"Polo, Oh there you are!" Dotty said while being very surprised to see Quentin seated on Bessie's back.

Dotty continued, "Boy, I never would have found Bessie in this corn field. I wonder how she got passed the fence."

"The gate from the pasture is opened, she must have just wandered in," Quentin replied as he made that squawking sound again.

 

It was quite a sight, a cow, with a straw-hat on its head and a Magpie on its back, being lead by a pint-sized kid down a dusty country road. And the two of them carrying on a enjoyable conversation as they headed back to the Grandparent's farm.

"I got an idea," Dotty said.

"What kind of idea?"

"Well, after I do my chores in the morning, I thought that I might go fishing. Ah, and I was just wondering if you might want to come along; you know, if you weren't busy or anything."

"Gee, I don't know, tomorrow is usually one of my busy days, but fresh fish is one of my favorite-ist meals, so I guess I'm free," Quentin replied with a chuckle in his raspy voice.

"Favorite-ist," Dotty questioned, "is that anything like Best-us and Awesome-ist?

"Exactly like those," Quentin replied as he made that squawking, laughing, sound.

"Is there Trout in the river, I really like Trout.

"I don't know, but there are Catfish, that is what I usually catch."

"Catfish are OK, but I really like Trout!"

"We might catch a salmon; my Grandpa says that it is that time of year!"

"Ooh, I love Salmon! Don’t you? ...

 

This was not the last conversation that these two had; these soon to be Best-ist friends had many, many, more.

 

 

D. Thurmond / JEF  ---  09-20-2016


© Copyright 2017 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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