Read to the End

All That's Missing is a Pear Tree

Merry Christmas, Richie. It's been a few years since I've heard from you, but I think you could use a gift. Take good care of him.

Sincerely,

You Know Who

Actually, I have no idea who you are. And if your idea of a gift is a stupid bird, then I hope I never do.

"You better get your bird. I'm not taking it into my house."

I look down at the bird, and it lets out a series of squawks that I swear are a bird's version of laughing.

"Let's see who's laughing when you freeze to death!" I slam the door and shuffle to my favorite recliner. A movie blares from the TV.

I hate Christmas!

My mind is racing. I can't calm down. I just imagine the bird in that cage on the porch planning its escape and attack on me. I picture its beady eyes zeroing in on me, swooping down, and pecking my skin off.

A banging sound upstairs. Now what? I rush up there thinking something fell, but then my fears come alive when I see the bird somehow out of the cage headbutting the window in my bedroom.

It jumps back, floats for a second, then settles back down and continues the banging. It notices me and goes crazy! It flips, spins, and screeches. All I keep thinking is if it comes in, it's going to kill me. I know that. Just like I know drinking bleach will mess up my insides.

To my astonishment, the bird flies away, and I'm able to breathe for a second. But before long, it's back, flying right toward the window as fast as a rock thrown by the neighborhood bully. It's not slowing down.

As much as I don't want that creature in my home, I don't want to watch it smash into my window either, so I dash toward the glass, unlock it, and slide it up in the same moment the fat freak floats through the gap.

I scream. I'm not proud of it, but I scream as loud as a tornado siren. I throw up my hands to protect the soft parts of my face and brace for impact.

And I wait. And wait.

It's quiet. Did it fly downstairs? I hope not. I don't want it down there either.

Opening my eyes, I'm surprised that it's perched on the foot of my bed. Calm. Beak opened slightly

"Get out of here!" I yell.

It adjusts its wings, but doesn't move. I grab a blanket and try to shoo it away. Like a statue, it's unnaturally still. I'm obviously not a threat.

"Don't make me call animal control," I threaten.

It makes that odd laughing sound again.

"I'm not joking."

More laughing.

I pick up my phone to make the call. That's when the bird makes its move. It rushes me, but instead of biting, it grabs my phone out of my hand with its sharp beak, and flings it out the window.

"You little pest! You're going to pay for that!"

Laughing.

"What is your problem?"

I try to run for the door, but it hobbles in front of it and blocks my exit, casually pacing like an annoying security guard. Now I'm livid. I yell and scream trying to scare it off, but the beast just scratches its wing with a claw and chills.

I start to panic. I have no idea what to do. I have no way out, no phone. If I ever figure out who cursed me with this monster and get out of here with my life, I don't know what I'm going to do, but it won't be nice.