Saturday morning. April 28th, 2007.
Sunlight streams through crooked gaps in dented blinds, bathing the bedroom in alternating strips of harsh and uneven golden light.
While high above the center of the room turns the blades of a white ceiling fan. Its whoosh provides the only sound in the quiet room, apart from light snoring and the quiet hum of a computer.
Against the glare of the uneven sunlight, one might make out the contents of the room:
Off-white walls interrupted by pictures, posters, and other decorations, a queen-sized bed in the center with a pair of gray talons jutting out past the footboard, an upholstered chair partially obscured by a pile of crumpled clothes, a computer desk, a brown wooden dresser, and a brown matching nightstand.
Gazing down and across a scratched yellow wooden floor, one finds remains of the previous evening, scattered about:
A leather wallet, a pair of black socks stuffed loosely into brown loafers, red and white striped boxers, a black silk bra, and other random articles of clothing that got removed and tossed to the floor.
Gazing up from the floor and starting in the back left corner, one would first encounter a gray tall-back upholstered chair. A partially crumpled evening dress drapes itself over the chair; its shiny mauve-colored satin fabric shimmers against the dull gray upholstery.
Turning right, one would see a large pine shelf jutting out from the wall. Placed upon its polished surface are curios from various moments in the occupant's life: a trophy from a soccer tournament, a photo of a child bird holding an award, some souvenirs from trips bygone, an image of a red robin in graduation garb smiling and clutching a diploma flanked on either side by her proud parents, and finally a candid shot of the same robin hanging out at the beach with her best friend, a tan-furred bespectacled mole.
Next comes the window with its worn and dented beige-colored aluminum Venetian blinds partly obscured by red drapes: a vain attempt to improve the otherwise unflattering image.
Reaching the corner of the room, we come to an L-shaped computer desk constructed of glass and steel. Sitting atop the desk is a desktop computer, its monitor showing an endless stream of flying colored windows. While on the wall are two framed objects. The first object is a diploma. In big black Gothic lettering against a watermarked background, it reads: "Margaret Smith, Delta City Community College, Associates Degree in Broadcast Journalism, 2005."
The second object is a 3-part matted picture frame. Within each round hole sits a faded black-and-white photograph from the life of an unknown avian couple, likely ancestors of the diploma bearer:
The first one appears to have been taken in some unknown village in central Europe. On a bale of hay in a barn with intricately carved wooden beams sits two robin-like birds dressed in traditional peasant attire. At their feet are several large pumpkins, possibly representing the year's harvest. A stern expression of almost sadness is on their faces.
The second one shows the couple, still clad in the same attire but smiling. They stand near a dock in an unknown American city. In the background, workmen haul cargo from a steamship onto a parked Model T truck. The female bird cradles in her wings a large egg. Perhaps, it's their child, but there is no caption to confirm.
The third photo and last photo appears to be more recent. The couple now wears formal American attire of the early twentieth century. They stand in front of what appears to be a large sandstone courthouse in the center of some city. Gone is the egg. In its are two smaller birds, their children. A short, bespectacled gray wolf sharply dressed in a black suit stands beside them. At the bottom of the photo are two white handwritten captions: "Lou Wolfson, Esq." beneath the wolf, and "Frank & Maria Szabo. Delta City, CA Federal Courthouse. Naturalization Ceremony, 1932." beneath the birds.
Some feet away, a large glass dressing mirror hangs from the wall. Beneath it sits a plain but sturdy brown wooden dresser. A tortoiseshell comb with red feathers stuck between its teeth, a hand mirror, perfume bottles, and makeup scatter randomly on the dresser surface, indicative of somebody having dressed in a hurry for an event. In the center of the dresser sits a small wooden chest whose half-ajar drawers reveal various pieces of jewelry in varying quality: a few family heirlooms with silver, gold, and precious stones; and other lesser pieces in nickel and rhinestone. Noticeably absent, however, is a pair of pearl earrings whose case sits empty atop the jewelry chest.
Turning again, we come to the right-side wall, the bulk of which is taken up by two white doors: an ordinary steel door leading to the hallway and a long, wooden accordion door hiding the closet. On the wall, between the two doors, hangs an autographed poster of the rock band "Fist Pump" from their 2000 tour.
Rounding the corner, we complete our tour of the room. We come across a wooden nightstand adjacent to the bed we saw before.
On a typical day, this nightstand would only have a black digital alarm clock, a charging cell phone, a pink vase-shaped table lamp, a bottle of prescription medicine, and a blue retainer case. But on this day, a few new features have been added: a half-empty pack of Marlboro cigarettes, a dirty ashtray, a torn foil wrapper bearing a logo of a falcon and the words "Maltese: Condoms for Birds" in black ink, a green-swirled glass pipe, its bowl darkened by resin and ash, and a protective wall of half-empty beer bottles in brown glass encircling it all.
Turning one's eyes to the bed, one would find two sleeping birds: red and blue. Their otherwise nude bodies are covered from below the waist by an oversized red comforter and white linen sheets strewn in loose feathers that fell from their bodies earlier in the night.
In the center of the bed, propped up on a large pillow, snoring, and sleeping on his back, lies the blue-colored bird, a tall male Eastern bluejay. Sky blue feathers otherwise cover his body save for the two black bands near his wrist and a large patch of white covering his torso from top of his neck down to the abdomen. He lies there half-asleep, his pointed crest reduced to a messy tuft and his dark gray beak agape, stirring every so often as the light and heat of the sun play across his face. His wings form a semaphore of sorts: his left wing, exposed, hangs loosely by his side, while his right wing, tucked behind his partner's back, holds her in an embrace.
Snuggling beside him lies his companion: a crimson robin who, on ordinary days, would be this bedrooms' sole occupant. Like her partner, she too has a similar white patch on her face and chest, and the feathers atop her head form a pointed crest. Her back to the sun and glare, she lies there in serene slumber, blissfully unaware of her surroundings. Her round and delicate smiling face lay atop his sternum. Her bare white-feathered breasts press against his side while her red wings hold him in a gentle embrace. Small pearl earrings dangle from the rim of her black comma-shaped ears.
As the sun continues to rise, the light streaming into the room grows brighter by the moment until it renders the bluejay's sleep intolerable. With a pounding headache and a stiff neck, he slowly turns his head to gaze his half-lidded eyes upon the harsh red LED glow of a digital alarm clock.
In a strained and hoarse voice, he groans, "Ughh, what time is it?"
To which the alarm clock replies silently in flickering red segments: "10:45A."
Awoken by his stirring, the robin slowly mumbles, "Mooord-a…", only to be interrupted by her partner's screams.
"SHIT!"
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I like stories that start with the climax first, then work backward from flashbacks to build out how we got there before returning to the present to finish out the tale. I find it more interesting than simply saving the climax for the very end. I've seen it done frequently in TV episodes, and since my story is structured as a fanisode, I employed that strategy here. We know Mordo finds himself sleeping next to Margaret, he is hung-over, and he overslept. Something else happened to him, likely sexual, but we don't know how it all came about. In the way I described the scene, I tried to be cinematographic here, I don't know if it's successful, but I wanted to create the feel of a camera panning around the room, picking up clues. Only when you get towards the middle of the chapter should you realize you're at Margaret's place. I hope I was successful in that endeavor. After much internal debate, I added a condom wrapper, just to confirm what happened the night before if it wasn't obvious already to the reader. I went with Maltese as the brand name as a pun on Trojans, Trojan Horse = Maltese Falcons. Technically speaking, most bird species except for waterfowl lack penises; one hole does it all (the cloaca). Fortunately, while my story bears the M rating, it isn't a lemon. Meaning, I don't need to worry about Mordecai's dick or lack thereof. I leave it to the reader to postulate what a "condom for birds" would look like.
You might have noticed from the show that while Margaret's father in the cartoon is human, the rest of her family are birds. This will come into importance later. As far as setting is concerned, I created an imaginary location in the Central Valley of California called Delta City. The cartoon never says where the Park is located; I picked that area after I found that JG Quintel was from Hanford, CA. In interviews, he claims that Regular Show is "loosely" based on himself and his friends. Hence, my choice of location and Mordecai's surname. I hope you like it, and please leave comments and feedback. All comments are appreciated, even criticisms, as they help me grow as a writer.
