I took my walking stick out for a day in sweater and slacks. I had picked up two empty soda bottles and put them in my pockets to discard later. When I got near the shore, I heard an awful little squeal. It was an egret, injured, in the shallows where the water is stale and murky, on the verge of turning green, completely stagnant.
I picked up the egret and felt its little weight against my breast. It shook with fear, but I stroked it gently and whispered to it that I was it's new good friend. I stifled back a sneeze, inside me, knowing the violence of a sneeze just then would probably stop the egret's little heart. I took it home to the parlor where I chewed up some worms and gently spit them into the birds mouth, where the bird gobbled them up with delight!
Later, I put on a film of movie, not Lucio Fulci fare, but an old exploitation vehicle nonetheless. On the screen:
"YOU BE LIS'NIN' TO SPACE WILLIE! I AM THE RULER OF THE NIGHTTIME WORLD!"
And, of course, there was one white girl in the crowd.
You know that.