Birds and Tuppence -A Mary Poppins story-
It was a lovely Sunday morning; everything was bright and happy after saving the Banks family house from the villainous William Wilkins of the Fidelity Fiduciary Bank. Michael Banks, in his mid-twenties sporting a bushy moustache, was in good spirits as he walked along the road to St. Paul's Cathedral.
Not for prayers, but for something he wished he could have done when he was young. That something in question?
Give tuppence to the Bird Woman and feed the birds, that lullaby Mary Poppins sang when he was young still echoed in his mind.
Michael reluctantly remembered that day he and Jane went to the bank with their pop George Banks, they'd passed by St. Pauls' and had seen the Bird Woman, sitting there on the steps with the pigeons just as Mary had said the previous night.
When they had asked George if they could feed the birds, Mr. Banks, being a cold hearted and uncaring man that he was, told them no and that he would not allow Michael "to throw his money away".
That came at a cost...
Once they were at the bank, Mr. Dawes Sr, George and the other bank officers had sang "Fidelity Fiduciary Bank" in an attempt to get Michael to invest his tuppence. Eventually, as Michael was thinking it over and opening his hand, Mr. Dawes had grabbed the money, infuriating Michael who inadvertently caused a run on the bank while screaming for his money back.
This resulted in George getting fired, but good came out of it as he changed his ways and Mr. Dawes Sr kicked over the bucket while laughing due to the old "Wooden Leg named Smith" joke.
All those years later, the tuppence Michael had given to his pop, who invested it in the bank, had saved the house from being bought off. But remembering Mary Poppins' magic from when he was young and that day, it made Michael want to feed the birds and bring closure to a chapter that never ended, "Feed the Birds for tuppence a bag".
It was time to show the bird woman kindness, feeding the birds would hopefully be more amazing than flying kites or balloons. Nothing would stop Michael this time.
His pop, though he was long gone, had a change of heart in the end and Mr. Dawes Sr. wasn't around anymore, even though Michael would often wake up in the night in a cold sweat after hearing the voice of the former bank president, taunting him and saying, "Feed the birds and what have we got, fat birds."
In the years after that day, Michael had partially forgotten all about the Bird Woman.
But no more!
Michael soon arrived at Saint Paul's and a smile gleamed upon his face, there she was, the old and nameless Bird Woman, surrounded by flocks of pigeons and sitting on the steps with a bag full of crumbs, wearing rags."Ah, there you are." He said happily.
"Feed the birds." B.W said, her voice cracking in her old age, "Tuppence a bag."
What else would she be saying? Michael thought happily, pulling out two silver coins from the pockets of his pants, remembering that priests were watching as B.W sold her bird food products.
"Feed the birds, tuppence a bag!" The bird woman said again, spotting Michael close by. "I got the tuppence." Michael replied, walking up towards the steps, he looked at his surroundings to make sure nobody was spying on him, completely failing to notice that his nervousness and memories of the past were starting to take their toll on him.
Invest your tuppence, a cold old man's voice echoed, you've got fat birds. Shaking it off, Michael walked up to the Bird Woman, careful not to step on any bread or birds and gave her the tuppence.
"Feed the birds," The Bird Woman said.
"You're welcome." Michael replied, picking up some bread from B.W's bag
"Tuppence a bag."
Splitting a piece of bread in halves, Michael tossed some to the little pigeons and, one by one, the birds ate it before flying into the skies. Shortly after, more Londoners were giving the Bird Woman their tuppence and feeding the birds as well.
With or without a bank account, you can feed the birds. Michael thought, Y'know, I think during the chaos of that bank run, Jane and I could have fed the birds before running into Bert and never bother to tell Pop about it.
Just as the young bank teller was about to toss more crumbs to a group of smaller pigeons, things quickly began to happen...
Lamplighters Jack and Joe passed by on their bikes and when one of them turned to wave to Michael... Michael saw the face of Mr. Dawes Sr. glaring at him. "Feed the birds, what have you got, fat birds." The voice of the dead bank president echoed.
Oh dear. Michael thought, Not now. Oh no! The Bird Woman's face suddenly started contorting into Mr. Dawes Sr's face and, in seconds, ghostly clones were popping up.
The poor man frantically tossed crumbs to the birds and tried to clear his mind, hoping it was some hallucination.
"No!" Michael exclaimed, clutching his head, "This can't be. This can not happen." The world started to spin and blacken around him, Michael was falling into blackness.
What was going on?
Was his mind slipping into insanity?
"Tuppence." A group of voices chanted, "Fat birds, patiently, prudently and cautiously. In the Dawes, Fidelity Fiduciary Bank."
Michael finally fainted and fell into darkness, losing consciousness in front of St. Paul's and many people.
—
Michael opened his eyes, finding himself in a dark room, completely confused. Where in ruddy London am I right now? He thought, I hope this is a dream. "Hullo!" He called, his voice echoing in the darkened chamber.
"Anyone there?" Michael's voice echoed again and it sounded like a thousand Michael Banks asking for whoever was in this place, holding him hostage.
It's just a dream, the fully grown lad thought. I will see Jane again and I will see the kids, it will be a long time before I see the kids' mum again. I still miss our conversations, dear.
A light lit up and Michael saw a door up ahead, he was just next to it and, as for the room, he was in some sort of prison for some reason. He got to his feet, hoping he was not in chains, thankfully no irons clamped him down.
Michael put his ear up to the door, noticing a light pouring in from a crack below the door, and heard a voice.
Someone had just called his name, an all too familiar voice. It sounded like... The late George Banks?
No, it couldn't be. This was some sort of dream, it had to be...
No, Michael thought, Impossible. I have no clues. Ah well, better find out.
Trying the doorknob, he saw that it was unlocked. If it were locked, he'd be banging on it and trying to get someone to open the door.
Opening the door, Michael stepped out of the dark room and into a very lit drawing room, decorated with a red carpet, sofas and a chandelier overhead. "Hullo?" Michael called.
"Come forth, my son." George's voice replied, "Come, let us talk."
BANG BANG! Michael turned and jumped back in alarm, he'd been standing next to a big bird cage and in the cage was a stout old man with glasses and fluffy white hair and a bushy beard and moustache and eyebrows.
Mr. Dawes Sr was trying to find a way out of the cage, laughing and crying his eyes out, Michael could hear him saying while sobbing, "Tuppence, wooden leg, Smith."
"Ignore the man in the cage." George's voice called Michael's attention to the left sofa, its back turned, where a black-suited man was sitting. His hand wavered, beckoning Michael to come closer.
Almost reluctant, Michael stepped forward away from the cage and Mr. Dawes Sr, who looked tormented beyond belief and more desperate than ever to get out and have freedom. Getting closer towards the sofas, he finally got a glimpse of the man in the suit, his hair and moustache black, face youthful and with a polite smile upon him.
The late George Banks, here in spirit.
"Ah, Michael, my one and only son." Mr. Banks said, "Look at you."
"Uh, you want me to sit?" Michael asked.
"Yes, sit."
Michael sat on the chair across from George's chair, completely confused. "Is this a dream?" Michael asked "Am I imagining things?"
George, calm, polite and caring as the day he'd seen the error in his ways, chuckled, "Michael, Michael, Michael. Yes, this is a dream. You're still near St. Paul's Church in the real world, unconscious after your paranoia got to you."
"Uh, yeah," Michael nodded, "About that me being at St. Pauls..."
"No need to tell me," George held up his hand politely, "I know why you were there, it was to finally give HER tuppence and feed the birds." He giggled, "Of course, how silly of me to possibly think birds could eat coins..."
Michael's jaw dropped, what brought up that idea, feeding birds money?
"Oh close your mouth, Michael!" George ordered, "You're not a codfish."
"Did you just pick up a bit of Mary Poppins?"
"Uh, yes, of course. I was watching the day she returned to the house."
"That was recent."
"Yes, Michael, that was recent."
"Even in the afterlife, people have a good memory."
"Memories are memories, Michael. Never forget it."
"Right. Got that."
George sighed, "Michael, there is something you must understand, It was not my intention to be a strict, heartless man, I was so caught up with order and business at the bank, I couldn't see past the end of my nose, in a figurative sense, hence why Mary Poppins arrived to put things in perfect order. Don't forget, Michael. Money is money, there are lots more money where it came from."
Michael had to ponder those last words, just as Mr. Dawes Sr pounded on the cage, howling again.
"Could somebody shut him up?" He asked. George got to his feet, eyes wide, "Oh."
Walking over to the cage, he looked at the stout, old man in the eyes and told him the "Wooden Leg named Smith" joke, instantly making Dawes fall silent.
"Sorry about that, Michael." George apologized, sitting back down, "I wanted to talk to you someplace else without the elder Mr. Dawes being in the area, but this has been like that for the past 2 decades in eternity.
"After he went out laughing (thanks to the Wooden Leg joke), Mr Dawes' was condemned to being caged up in the afterlife as punishment for his greedy ways, reduced to a somber, broken man, tormented by his thirst for money."
"Don't worry, father." Michael nodded, "I understand why some people like the elder Mr. Dawes end up in a bad place when their lives are done. I'm glad you did not end up in a cage, tormented by darkness."
George chuckled, "Michael, while I am here talking to you right now (in this dream), I'm up on a great cloud in the sky with your mum, looking down on you and your family."
"You came to me in this dream to tell me something important."
George coughed, "Ah, yes. Right." He scratched his chin, "What was I going to talk to you about? What was I..." Mr. Banks snapped his finger, making Michael jump, "Ah yes, that's right. It's about earlier, right about the same time you were going to pass out and I would show up to meet with you."
"Feeding the birds which I did not do years ago on that fateful day?"
"Yes, Michael. As a, ah, reasonable man, I'm not too worried about things like feeding the birds and money having its own uses for many things besides investing in the bank. Michael, if you asked me if you could feed the birds years ago, after I saw the error in my ways, I probably would have said yes."
"I kinda forgot about the Bird Woman and I feared you'd say no again. Also, Mr Dawes was a bit rude." Michael said, hoping he was on his pop's good side.
"D'oh. Michael, Michael, Michael. You misjudge, you're holding on to grudges and that can not happen, let go, forgive and forget."
Michael's eyes widened, "So that's why I suddenly freaked out and started seeing a bunch of Mr. Dawes Srs walking about and hearing his voice."
"That's because remembering the past and you wanting to feed the birds, even though being nice to that Bird Woman is a good thing, caused you to have anxiety and not forget that one day years ago. Next time you want to do something you didn't do in the past, think things over, relax and do it."
"Thanks for the advice."
"No problem, I could talk to you more, but time is short. May we talk again soon."
—
Michael awoke with a start, finding himself next to the steps of St. Pauls cathedral, surrounded by birds who were crawling all over him. Thankfully, no animals had been taking a dump on him.
Michael didn't like getting his best suit dirty, last time a bird dumped on him, he had to clean his suit and show up late for work.
The Bird Woman was standing right over him, smiling, "Feed the birds," she held out her hand, "Tuppence a bag."
"Good point." Michael took her hand and, with her help, he got to his feet before dusting himself off, mostly due to the fact his suit was probably dusty.
Apparently, when the Bird Woman said "feed the birds tuppence a bag" she was trying to tell Michael to be careful if he passed out, otherwise, there would be a tragic accident. "Thanks for the advice." Michael shook the Bird Woman's hand, "Now, its time to part, I must head home and relax. Blimey, what time is it?"
Breathing in some nice fresh air, Michael left the steps of St. Paul's, heading back the way he came from, eager to spend some time with his family for the rest of the day at 765 Cherry Tree Lane and tell them about what he'd experienced by St. Paul's.
As he walked, the memory of his meeting with his late pop was fresh in Michael's mind and he could think over what the late George Banks said to him…
The End