Inside

New York. The name of the place was New York.

I found this out when I was walking down the street on my way to scavenge something to eat and I saw a little girl tug on her mother's hand and excitedly exclaim, "I love The Lion King! I love New York! Can we live here?!"

I lived here. I'd trade her any day.

I'd come to the point where insignificant matters could no longer be ignored or pushed aside. My hair was officially the consistency of dried barf. It crunched whenever I laid on it. Even by my livin'-the-free-life standards, it was pretty gross.

So now I ask you - how does a person clean their head? I'd never done it before, and I was at a loss. The most logical thing seemed to be by getting it wet again, but with what? Spit? That was even grosser.

I pondered this for a while, laying on my belly on the roof of my hangout and watching people walk by below. How did they keep their hair so nice and shiny and clean? I mean, I didn't see any of 'em spitting on each others' heads, but I didn't see them doing anything else either.

My questions were answered when I saw a bus roll to a stop at the light. There was a picture on the side, a picture of some kind of spout with water coming out and the head of a happy-looking woman using something out of a bottle. Water? Or course! Water! Much better than spit.

So…where did water come from? The magical spout? And where would I find one of those?

By the end of the day I was resigned to one answer: inside.

People went in and people went out of apartments. They stayed in them when it got dark. They came out when the sun came up. Their hair stayed clean.

I swallowed. The last time I'd been inside, it'd been in a cage and some pretty bad things had been done to me. Did I really want to risk that again? No. Did I have to? Considering that you could pretty much impale someone with pieces of my hair, the answer was a reluctant yep.

I plotted. I schemed. I waited until the guy who lived two buildings down left his apartment when the sun went down. I'd seen him do this twice before. He went out in the evening and came back late at night. I would have a small amount of time to fix myself up before he returned. My wings could use some attention, too. They were dirty and ruffled from being cramped in my clothes all the time. And, let's face it, I didn't smell tolerable anymore.

I stared at the door from my hiding spot, watching the man leave for the evening and running through my deeply-thought-out plan over and over again in my mind:

Head. Wings. Get in, clean 'em up, get out.

As soon as the man's car veered out into traffic, I slipped out of the shadows and moseyed up to his door. The handle didn't turn. I was beginning to learn that this was a common thing with doors around here.

I nervously looked around, waiting for someone to call me out, then snuck around back and tried the window. After much straining, it slowly slid up with a squeaky moan. Yes! He hadn't locked it! I would have thought what a sucker, except that if he wasn't a sucker I wouldn't be getting in, so I was grateful for his sucky-ness.

Adrenalin pumping, I curled myself up and squeezed through it. It was tight, especially when it came to getting my concealed wings through, but it worked. I was inside. I was inside somebody's home.

And it was creeping me out. I tiptoed through a dark room, careful not to touch anything. I didn't know what most of it was. My senses were razored on every step I took. I made mental notes of exits, keeping careful track of where that window was. I didn't realize I was so claustrophobic.

I stumbled down a hallway trying not to leave little dirty-bird-kid prints in the soft floor. Where, oh where, was that magical little water spout? It had to be around here somewhere…

I crept into a smaller room, helping my claustrophobia achieve new heights. Where, oh where…There it was, above the large basin-thingy. I peered at it. Okay…so where was the water? Did he run it out? Or maybe it didn't run all the time. Maybe I had to get it started.

While looking around for something to turn it on with, I saw something move. There was someone in the room with me.

I screamed.