Bluebird

by Tamara Anna Pawlak

Photo by Milada Vigerova/Unsplash

Bluebird

I know, I know, humans have all kinds of skin, but my friend is the color of just skin. When I pop him in my mouth, it’ll be the same taste no matter what color he is...

Would you like to see him? Would like to see my friend?

He’s cupped in my hand. Like a baby bluebird. Blue is my favorite color so I like to think of my friend in that way. But he’s really the color of skin. Human skin. I know, I know, humans have all kinds of skin, but my friend is the color of just skin. When I pop him in my mouth, it’ll be the same taste no matter what color he is. But I don’t like humans as much as I like birds. Blue birds to be exact. So, I like to think that my friend is a bluebird. A bluebird cupped in my hand.

Why will I eat him? Because he’s my favorite! I like Santa, so I bite the head off my chocolate Santa. I like teddy bears, so I bite the heads off all my gummy bears. Just like I will with my friend. I’ll bite off his head—his gummy head—and I’ll lick up the raspberry filling that gushes out of his neck. HEHEHE! Just like the gooey middle of a jelly doughnut! Yum! Gooey friends are my favorite kinds of friends. HEHEHE! I feel him wiggling in my hand. Listen! You can hear his cute, tiny screaming! But no way—I won’t ever let him go. Because I always eat my favorites.

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