There was this weird looking puhsan looking at me.. He had a weird blue rectangular cardboard cover, and was weirdly staring at me intensely. For what joy? Buh buk. Would he be the doer of my fate? Oh, looks like not, he is walking away with a tear in his eye… Weird puhsan. All these puhsans are weird.
There are random feathers scattered near and far. Souvenirs from numerous battles, and submissions. Needless to fight, I say. After all, who are we to battle and win over them puhsans. They gonna beat us, and they gonna eat us. That’s the way its gonna be. I say this world economy won’t let us be otherwise.
I am alone. In a weird buh buking sense, its nice to have all the space. It was kinda cramped with us twenty pushed in here. But on the minus side, I have no one to have a small buh buk with… Sadder still that I had to see them all going the buh buking way… Them puhsans they come, they choose, they conquer. Them chief puhsan he comes, he takes the chosen one, and pulls out her feathers, one bunch by one bunch. Musta hurt for sure. I ofta wondered why they do that. Is it ‘cos they got none of their own? They gettin tired of their fancy colourful skins, mahbe…
Anyway… Puhsans come, puhsans go; and with them goes one of us… Or perhaps a couple of us, if puhsan‘s having a party tonight.
In front of me, a couple couple of my cousins hang in frightening defiance of that gravity which none of us seemed to conquer, unlike other compatriot winged ones. Sadly, the bravado was not for the brawn in their wings, but for the iron wire which held them hooked from their now featherless legs. No, they had none feathers any more. Nor had they heads. Couldn’t have said who’s who out there…
Ofta have I wondered why we were born into this buh buking life. I meanta say, whats the entiring point? We hatched like some auto-hand tweaking a nut on a car, afta which we fed like some drainage recharge the seas, and then we’re packed into them big truck, all of us cramped in, leg in a ear, beak in a cloaca, stuck to the core of our existence, to end up here… Now, we are defeatherised to dehungarise those puhsans. Whats tha buh buking point? I am missing it?
Oh here passes a few of my co-faters.. They aren’t experiencing the stuck-in-a-truck deal though… They’re rather taking a free-air ride, hanging a dozen from the seat of that two-round thingy that that puhsan is riding. Tied by the leg they are. Oh, I should buh buk them! Not a peak of a buh buk from them! Inspite of the bumpy roads! Stoics to the heart… That’s not the most of the comfortable position to be transported is it? Nor is a beak in your cloaca, but then, its still better than dangling by your feet from a two-round thingy, swaying and hitting against all and sundry. Now thats like adding insult to injury… Its like that puhsan they all kneel in front of, him by the name of Jesus, poor guy having whipped to pull up this gigantic plank of wood before they finished him off…
I feel a little alone.. A couple of my feathers are bent all the wrong way.. But then, that ain’t no surprise after that mechanical farm, the truck, and this holding pen… Driplets of waters dripping down the barbed wire… Isn’t rain supposed to be beautiful? Whys it this then?
Is there perhaps a meaning to it all that we do not comprehend? Is there a reason why I sit now, in this barbed wire cage, shuffling my feathers to keep myself warm, the last one in the queue to painful death.. Is there a reason why I see my cousins endowed in the fate which shall soon be mine.. Why am I alone, and why am I here at all… Is there a reason, reasons, and is there a reason, reasons, to the reason, reasons?
Why, here comes a puhsan now… I wonder if he’s going to buy one of my cousins… Hmm. They’re looking at me. I guess this is it. Yesss. Here comes the big guy puhsan. And here he opens the cage. Should I try to make a run for it? Should I buh buk and fight? [like I'll escape him... if I do, then what? what do I do in this world I do not know? what shall I do in this world when I know not to walk, fly, jump... what shall I do for food.. no one shall feed me.. no one shall be there for me.. ha ha, like there is some one there right now.. this world is an illusion. and the sooner I'm done with it, the better.]
“This one weighs three kgs. Thats a hundred and eighty bucks.”
“Thanks.”
“Shall you have it like this, or shall I dress it for you?”
“Dress it please.”
Buh buk.
