Cuckoo in the Nest!

This week's story is told from the point of view of a baby cuckoo bird, who invades a nest and tricks the dumb birds who live there into caring for him. This is what cuckoos actually do. It's a classic!

***

It's dark. And cramped. I think I'm in the air. I hear whooshing. Where am I going. If I'm even going somewhere. Maybe I'm just floating. I hope so. I want to float someday. Maybe someday.

Oh no oh no now I'm falling. Oh wait I'm fine. Yes, I'm okay. My compartment is intact. It hit something soft and rustle-y. I hear something. "Bye, sweetie! Be good!" it said, to me, I think. "This is a nice, well-kept nest. You'll thrive here, don't you worry..." This thing sounds kind, but sad as well. I'll miss it. I heard more whooshing and now it's gone and now I'm alone.

I stay still for a bit. Not that I can do anything else. Nothing happens for some time. But then there's a disturbance and I'm rocking back and forth a bit. I hear some whooshing and a shrill, gravelly, croaking, oddly feminine voice with some accent scream, "HONEY!! Are yeh back from work yet? I'm stawvin'!"

I hear it, or her, coming towards me and I tense up in my compartment. She says to herself, "Oh gawsh, look at the kids. They're awl so byootiful." She hops even closer to me and I can tell she's right above me. "This one's new, ain't it? Aw, I gotta ask him, I don't keep tracka dis stuff." There's silence for a moment, which is nice because this thing is really getting on my nerves. "Kay kids, momma's gonna go have a smoke and then a nap and then who knows what," she declares. I hear whooshing and my compartment adjusts back to its original position.

I get bored. I want to break out now. Of whatever's confining me, I mean. I don't know how, though. I don't understand how one -- oh, wait, that ridiculous thing is back.

"Wanda? Where are ya, babe?" says a different voice than before. Oh hold on. This is a different thing. This voice is smoother, with the same accent, but deeper and more pleasing to listen to than that other yappy and rough-sounding voice. "Wanda? Wanda, where -- Oh, Wanda, get away from dat tower ting! Iss bad fuh ya lungs! Dat stuff comin' outta it'll kill ya!"

"Oh, there ya are!" replies what I deduce to be Wanda. Her voice comes closer and I hear whooshing. "Did ya bring food or somethin'? If I don' eat right dis minute momma's gonna go on a... a RAMPAGE!" she yells, clearly very proud of her wide vocabulary.

"Yeah, I got some worms for youse," the other voice, not Wanda, says. "But I want yeh to stay far away from dat ting wit the smokey stuff floatin' out. It ain't good for yeh, and the people livin' in the box it's attached to prolly ain't gonna like dat yer stealin' their stuff."

"Oh, honey," says Wanda to her spouse. I still don't know his name. "They don't care! Not one bit! An' dis smoke is doin' me good, I sweah on my mothah's mothah! It makes me feel ALIVE!"

They argue some more, and I've had enough of this now. I start pushing against the walls surrounding me, and it cracks and cracks. Wanda and Larry notice.

"Oh, honey!! Oh, babe, look! It's hatchin'! Our first child is hatchin'! Oh, I hope it's a goil, I've awlways wanted a daughtah!" exclaims Wanda. I burst out rather anticlimactically and look at my new parents. One is very fat and has stubby wings. The other is suave and sleek. "Oh, it's a boy," says Wanda, who is clearly disappointed. It appears that Wanda is the fat one. She perks up: "But 'e's my son! He's our son, and I love 'im! Oh, honey, let's name 'im Junior, after his fawtha, Junior, Sr.!"

"Oh, Wanda, he's wondahful, just like 'is mothah! Let's go find some food for 'im! Be right back, Junior, Jr.!" promises Junior, Sr., my new father. They fly off together, happy as can be.

I look around the nest. There are lots of other white oval things here, like the one I came out of, and my instincts tell me to push them off. So I do. One by one they fall, splat splat splat splat. It's kind of a mess down there now. Oh well.

Wanda and Junior, Sr. return bearing lots of berries and worms and other things. "All fuh you, son!" says Junior, Sr. as he lays the wad of nourishment down in the nest. Then, Wanda gasps the loudest, most frightening and dramatic gasp I have ever heard. Eyes wide with panic, she screams, "OH LAWD! WHERE ARE THE OTHAH CHILDREN?!"