~ Sometimes, You Just Gotta Finish The Story ~
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Tuesday Freewrite Prompt: Peacock
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Excerpted From:
SCHTEINN'S FOIBLES ~ Like Aesop, Sort Of ~ Vol. 1 No. 3
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Portnoy strutted up 7th Avenue, turned down W. 45th, spun on the sidewalk, and took one more long look back onto the buildings lining Times Square. He was here. And feeling it. New York, New York. The Big Apple. Land of glitz and glam. The lights, the action. The mayhem. The chicks!
The incredible smallness of backwards, Cedarville Ohio seemed like a million miles away, both as the crow flies, and in opportunities no longer missed. And even further to the west, when considering all he'd gone through, just GETTING to NY. If only his brothers could see him now. The Big City. The one that never sleeps.
A huge Yellow Cab almost pasted him to the curb, but he hopped back up onto the sidewalk in time, bobbing and weaving north on 7th Avenue, un-daunted. Just keep on moving. Uptown. Strut your stuff. Yeah, that's right, little bird, over on the brownstone steps. I see you, checking me out. He puffed up his chest a bit more, and flexed his bun muscles harder, making sure his true tail-colors showed in the late, afternoon sun. When you got it, you got it !
He had arrived. And this was sure to impress. The chicks, the hens, the babes, that's all he knew, and cared about. Strutter, that's what I am. A true S-T-R-U-T-T-E-R. He flexed and splayed his tail out a bit more, and held it up high. No roosting alone tonight. That's right, ladies, I'm your Peacock, and don't you forget it. More color in my tail than the midway sun.
He could see the distant trees of Central Park, and the spires off near the Zoo. His final destination. Cousin Piedmont back home had told him all about it. This was the place to be, to find true love. Or at least a good time roosting fully un-alone, for the night.
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The rain-soaked pavement of the sidewalk hissed up at him, as the waning sun burned off the remaining puddles from the brief, afternoon shower. The sooty city-water felt good squishing up between his fat little pink toes. Portnoy almost swooned, as the wafting odors of the big city swept past his beaked nostrils with each light breeze. The enormous, 10 foot stack of hefty bags to his sidewalk-left reminded him of the county dump back home. Not so much in the urban versus rural view, but definitely within the incredibly strong smell. Nothing quite like it. The odoriferous promise of good things to come. In plastic packaging.
As he sauntered by the pile, a sharp movement caught his eye, from under a torn bag of old diapers. Psst, hey, buddy, psssst. Portnoy quickened his step. He'd heard about the shadier side of New York. This must be it. The voice from under the diapers went on, where you going, in such a scurry. I just wanna talk. The brown and gray, buck toothed dude with a gross, fat, very naked tail skittered out with alarming speed, blocking his way on the sidewalk. Then continued on in a deep, New York drawl -- never seen you around these parts before, Bub. You a tourista? Where you from, c.bumpkin?
Portnoy took a couple of steps back, bobbing his head, sizing up this new, potential adversary. Ummm, was all he managed to peep out. This toothy fellow smelled bad, and looked like big-time trouble. Spelled with a capital TRU. There was something rather sinister about his skinny, pink, scarred-up nose on the end of that thin, flat face that sent a shiver up and down Portnoy's spine, even under his downy, inner feathers.
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He finally caught his breath. My name is Portnoy, I'm from Ohio. Cedarville, to be exact. Flew here for a vacation. He figured it was best to get this over with as soon as possible. And definitely not tell the rodent the real reason he was here. The Zoo was waiting. And all those lovely birds. Yes, his cousin had told him all about the seedy underbelly of the New York underworld. As he'd already established, this had to be it.
The huge city rat was sizing him up in return, from beak to tail, before startling Portnoy in a booming loud voice, as he held out a bony front foot for a handy shake, Ronnie's the name. Big city's my game!
Portnoy took a hop back, repeating once again, I'm Portnoy, I'm a Peacock. Ronnie gave him a quizzical look over his cracked spectacles. Hmm. Where you headed at such a pace, Portnoy the Peacock? Portnoy squeaked out another reply, and completely broke down his planned facade. Why DID he always cave under pressure?! I'm headed for the Zoo, to see what I can find in the way of romance. I've heard there are some very lovely Pea Hens there.
Pea Hens, eh?! Ronnie the Rat pondered the bird, shifting from foot to foot in front of him. Then took a long moment to scratch behind a moth-eaten ear with a very sharp, menacing rear claw. Portnoy gulped like a dry-land guppy-fish. Ronnie let out a small, derisive snort of a chuckle, shaking his scraggly head, I think you'll find more of your kind over beneath the Brooklyn Bridge. Enough of you to sink a small barge, there is, hanging out under the eaves of the works.
Portnoy didn't like his tone. Or obvious insinuation concerning avian lineage. No, I'll do just fine down in the Zoo. I've heard there are many gorgeous ladies there, wandering the grounds, down that way. In the park. Just waiting for one with the likes of me.
Ronnie gave a louder piggish snort, suit yourself. But I still think you'd do better down at the bridge. You sure you're a Peacock? Kinda short. You ever look in the mirror? I've never seen one like you, in all my born days.
Portnoy was a bit shaken, but assured the exceedingly uncouth fellow in his best Ohio accent, that, yes, I've seen myself in books. And that is that. My mother always said I was a gorgeous bird, a real Peacock. And that is that. Now leave me be. It's getting dark, and I need to get to the Zoo before it's too late. The large rat stepped aside, and with a shrug and simple motion of 'be my guest' with both front feet splayed in outstretched pose, invited Portnoy to pass.
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Portnoy shook his small, graying head, and sidled wide around the nasty city rat. He hurried on his way, up the sidewalk toward Central Park, looking back in time to see Ronnie the Rat chatting up another questionable looking, one-eyed rodential friend by an apple box of old, discarded electronic's cords. They were laughing aloud and pointing his way, as Portnoy turned back in the direction of the park.
Luckily for Portnoy, he was out of earshot, with all the city noise. You believe that dude, says he's headed to the Zoo. Someone pulled his chain pretty hard, that's for sure. The one-eyed rat just laughed, and started gnawing on an old, wet, banana-colored HDMI cable, sticking out from the top of the box. Takes all kinds, don't it?! Looks just like all the other flappers hanging out down under the bridge to me, but then, I never seen a Peacock in NY anyways. Don't even know what one looks like. But I'm sure it ain't that! They laughed so hard they each dropped a couple of small, dark footballs onto the sidewalk, then headed back under the garbage bag pile, as the rain started to dapple onto the plastic bags and surrounding pavement once more.
Portnoy turned into the park, and headed for the Zoo. He flexed his tail muscles really hard, and got a full, 17 degree fan to come up. A NEW record!! He looked back, noting how nice the gray, green and pink-hued sheen of feathers looked, front lit by the waning sun. What do rats know anyway, about being a gorgeous bird? They live in a pile of garbage bags. He puffed up his chest again, just as a whole flock of odd, chubby birds landed, settling in all around him. They set to bobbing and weaving and cooing in circles surrounding him, and though they weren't like the Peacocks he'd seen in books, he was quite sure they would do. After all, a bird is a bird is a bird, when you're new and all alone, in the Big City.
oo
~ Finto ~
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The Moral of the Story ###
Never allow the seedier RatFinks of life to steer you from your desires of destiny, even if you possess an inflated view of yourself.
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Five Minute Freewrite Post by @mariannewest #####
Post: Five Minute Freewrite ~ Tuesdays Prompt: Peacock
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Author's Note:
This is not a true, Five Minute Freewrite. Or even a Standard, 28 Minute- Five Minute Freewrite. So I made up a NEW category. (We seem to be expanding here...). Sorry, couldn't help myself. Sometimes these short Freewrites cause a mental stir, and things take off, and before you know it, I've laid total waste to the little electronic, 5-minute timer. (Mentally, I'm not about to break my friendly, digital time management assistant.) It is important to also note, I do edit these short tomes. After all, that's what this writing thing seems to be all about.
So thank you for reading, and have a most wondrous day, if that seems like something you would like to do. -dds
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Thanks for stopping in and viewing another Twenty Eight Minute, 5-Minute Freewrite, that morphed into an even LONGER 56 Minute -5 Minute Freewrite thing. If you have any thoughts about far-distant travels, Peacocks, rats, Big City life, Foibles and their morality play, misplaced identity leading to grand romance, or anything else this post reminds you of, please feel free to comment away in the spaces below. I'd love to hear from you.
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Please UPVOTE, COMMENT and FOLLOW if you enjoy my works.
And go to @ddschteinn -- There's a whole lot more...
Posted: 02/26/2020@ 13:15 ~ Post No. 328
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Excerpts From Late-Night Conversations With A Mechanical Cat
Fact Number 164 ###
