Bigsley and Bernadette: There Goes the Neighborhood

Before Bernadette could explain to Bigsley that she had no plans of moving from her nest, a splash of color swooped between them and landed on the new house.  Here sat Herman "the Chirpster" Strutterbird, first in his aves class, four time winner of the annual Chirp-a-thon, best overall plumage as voted by local females three seasons running, universally admired for his congeniality, altruism, and sense of smell.

"I see you are looking beau-tee-tee-tee-ful as always, Berna-detty-betty-boo," chirped Herman.

"Are your eyes glued shut or what?  She's a mess, digging for worms day and night.  I'm not much better myself just having to listen to those spoiled chicks.  Everything is me, me, me. I'll tell you, kids these days."

"Nice to see you too, Bigsley."

"Fit to be tagged, eh Herman?"

"It is a great honor to be part of scientific survey."

"Is that the spin coming out of the DNR marketing department these days?"

"Bigsley, let me take this opportunity to forgive you for all the injurious defamations you have slung at me over the years.  As your new neighbor, I want you to know, I do admire your obstinacy, though perhaps you could work on your--"

"Did you say new neighbor?"

"Didn't Bernadette tell you?"

"What hasn't she told me? All she does is gab, day and night.  I can't get her to shut up.  There's no subject that chick won't broach, you know what I mean? She's an absolute gas. She tells me everything going on in that mind of hers. Fascinating stuff, I can assure you. But you?  No, come to think of it, she's never mentioned a peep about you."

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