Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Cuttle Birds (A)

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF CUTTLE BIRDS. Six foot tall seagulls, capable of escorting you out of the water, tying you up on shore, and wood-peckering your skull 'til your brain matter explodes all over the sand like a work of Eighties Spin Art.

I woke up directly from this dream, horrified the staff of my local Dunkin Donuts, and went to work, not sure whether or not these birds existed. Around lunchtime, I had a moment to sneak out of the boss's eyeshot. I Googled "GIANT SEA-DWELLING WOODPECKERS" from my phone. My phone crashed. I got it wet in the monsoon this weekend when I was searching for a British boy at a series of LES bars, so I broke it into three pieces and asked my boss if he knew where I could buy a bag of rice. One of his eyes bulged out farther than the other and he said maybe at CVS but I thought I'd better get back to work.

Later that day, at after work drinks, I incongruously sipped a diet coke because I still needed to go to the gym and relayed the story to a group of coworkers. I didn't care what they thought of me because I didn't want to sleep with any of them. Except for one. He has a live-in girlfriend and smells like ivory soap.

All of my coworkers were sure that these birds didn't exist, all of them except for one, a girl from Iowa with legs like tree-trunks that always have patches of stubble. She has the look of a person who is going to like to make a lot of crafts one day.

"There are billions of species that we don't know about," she said reassuringly, although she wasn't reassuring at all.