(Discliamer: See Chapter 1)
Chapter 11
"Show us again, Uncle Bomb!" Jay pleaded.
"Oh, it's getting late—"
"Please!" The three said in unison. It was the late afternoon, and after a painful day of training a rapid-acting, opioid reliever was watching Bomb and his earth-shaking explosives, snickering with evil eyes. The entertainer had long recovered from his injuries, recovering just as warmth across the valley did with the onset of spring.
A few days ago, when the blues returned from their not-so-fruitless journey to find the Mighty Eagle, both the blues and Matilda (and the rest of the flock, for that matter) never heard the end of it from each other. The blues always had a subject at dinner, which almost made their mother's macerated vegetable soup seem appetizing. At first, Red had no concern when they regretfully divulged Chuck had gone missing (Red had told them "His name to be mentioned or heard within earshot. Understood?"). At first a search party would be organized, but Red called it off midway. "He is banished, and he must find his own way, if he ever does."
"Oh all right, just one more time," Bomb conceded his authority. He placed a small rodent on the worn patch in the field that was the stage for the show. The entertainment catapulted off, bursting in flames, flailing its arms in vain, only to fall to the ground and transfer its life to the dead grass on the explosion site, with the help of rain that would hopefully come. The blues burst in maniacal laughter, joined by Bomb's sonorous, hearty chuckle that was freed from him after he conceded his authority.
Matilda, just finishing dinner, watched the blues and Bomb with perturbed eyes. What would my three angels become? She lamented to herself. He is making them into monsters. Bomb, if he doesn't kill our children, he turns them into monstrous killers. Painful memories were rudely awakened. A loud bang and the sadistic cackle of children punctuated her thought, and she slipped back into the cave, where she would be safe.
Red stood hidden in a rock watching this spectacle. What contemptible acts, he lamented to himself. Bomb was such a wasteful, privileged one. Why did he get to use all the TNT? Because he was Bomb, and he "needed" it. Why does he need it? He blows up, so he's in charge of every damn thing that blows up; but if that were true, he would be the leader of the Flock, all the hot-blooded, blood-vessel-rupturing birds of the Flock. Why must he be so wasteful, and only for pleasure and work? Work is the only thing that makes the world go; the cogs of the world turn in perfect isochronal rhythm. Without work there would be no play. If there is play, there would have to be work. He withdrew from the bushes and returned to his cave.
Dinner was quieter than usual, but not naturally so. It was a strange, revolting cocktail of bizarre grasses and carrion foraged from nearby; Matilda would not be a Michelin-starred chef anytime soon. Everyone was holding back something, looking around at their neighbors, they wanted to say something, but they were hesitant, what would the Flock think, would this bird get mad, would something terrible happen, not in front of the children—finally Red spoke.
"I see you are using explosives for you entertainment, Bomb." He tried to start off neutral, icy cold like the early spring night.
"Oh, yes, the children love it. Don't y'all?" Bomb turned to face the blues, who responded agreeably to his hearty chuckle.
Red tried to maintain civility. That sly smile Bomb wore was so evil, evil enough to turn against his own kind. Or at least that was the excuse he used in his defense after he proceed to dump dinner over Bomb. It was not the repulsive meal that led to the victim writhing in pain on the floor, but the temperature it was heated to make it barely palatable. The blues huddled in fear and scurried back to their cave. Matilda said nothing; she sat there, motionless, inching a little to avoid being splashed with the scalding weapon that Red wielded carelessly. Her eyes stared blankly as the victim writhing on the ground. She let a smirk show on her beak.
"Who's helpless now, Bomb?" Red shouted at him. That was rhetorical.
"Goddamn it, Red, what do you want from me?" The gruel on him began to cool, and he finally had the composure to speak.
"I do not know, Bomb. You have stolen too much from me—no, us—you steal the show every time in battle. Your fuse is a sorry excuse for a living thing. You are a weapon, you hear? Nothing but a dirty, soil-covered weapon! Eat the dirt, where you belong." He forced a beakful down Bomb's throat, causing him to gag violently.
"If you're jealous of me—"
"No, that's not it, it's just…it's just…well." As Terrence, who hid in the bushes during dinner, saw Red head back to his cave, leaving Bomb behind, he too went back to his cave, locking up this event deep in his engorged mind.
(Well, it's been a while! I hope for your continued support as I continue my fanfics!)