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The Raptore
Jun. 15th, 2005 08:34 pmI stared across the table at the bird. It was a turkey vulture, a dour and disreputable looking creature, squatting in the wooden chair opposite me. It made a sound halfway between a strangle and a growl, and it cocked its head to eye me suspiciously.
I was somewhat surprised to see the bird. Only moments earlier that same chair had been occupied by Janice, my parole officer. We had been going over my paperwork, when suddenly Janice's pen flew in the air. There was a kind of flash and a rustling sound, and there sat the vulture where Janice had been.
We eyed each other, neither exactly sure what to do. A clock ticked. The vulture bobbed its head once and turned to view me with the other eye. Outside I heard a screech of tires and a crashing sound. I raised a finger.
"Uh...excuse me just a second," I said lamely. The vulture bobbed its head and ruffled its wings. I got up from my chair and went to the window. It took some work to get the stupid thing open so I could have a look outside.
A taxi had crashed into a fire hydrant, and water was spraying everywhere. A group of people was already descending on the wreck, and a wreck it was -- the hydrant was embedded deeply in the taxi's hood, and an electronic whine suggested that something still energized was spinning freely.
There was a guy in the back, but I couldn't see any sign of a driver. The crowd was having trouble getting the back door open, but somebody found a screwdriver and levered the thing open. They extracted the cab passenger, whose face was a mask of blood and seemed only half-conscious. Suddenly something else violently disgorged itself from the car -- a great mass of feathers and claws and angry beak. It scattered the onlookers before climbing skyward and wheeling majestically. It was, I was certain, a California condor.
A news chopper flew overhead -- too low, I thought, and its angle and stuttering engine suggested that shortly it would be crashing. As it passed over our block, several birds flew out the open side -- long-eared owls, judging from the silhouettes.
I suddenly had an idea. Turning away from the window just as the helicopter hit a less lucky building somewhere with a dull KRUMP, I cautiously approached the vulture. It had already fouled my chair, I noted with some distaste. I got my broom and urged it to find another perch. It made a caustic squawk and gracelessly hopped onto the high back of my La-Z-Boy, beating its wings indignantly.
I poked around the top of the chair with the end of the broom. Yep, sure enough: there in the mass of disgusting vulture excrement was a small gold chain -- one I had seen around Janice's neck. On the end of that chain, I saw, was a plain crucifix.
I stalked back to the window. "Dammit!" I shouted at the sky. "It's 'rapture', with a U!" I shook my fist at the clouds.
"You idiot!"
I was somewhat surprised to see the bird. Only moments earlier that same chair had been occupied by Janice, my parole officer. We had been going over my paperwork, when suddenly Janice's pen flew in the air. There was a kind of flash and a rustling sound, and there sat the vulture where Janice had been.
We eyed each other, neither exactly sure what to do. A clock ticked. The vulture bobbed its head once and turned to view me with the other eye. Outside I heard a screech of tires and a crashing sound. I raised a finger.
"Uh...excuse me just a second," I said lamely. The vulture bobbed its head and ruffled its wings. I got up from my chair and went to the window. It took some work to get the stupid thing open so I could have a look outside.
A taxi had crashed into a fire hydrant, and water was spraying everywhere. A group of people was already descending on the wreck, and a wreck it was -- the hydrant was embedded deeply in the taxi's hood, and an electronic whine suggested that something still energized was spinning freely.
There was a guy in the back, but I couldn't see any sign of a driver. The crowd was having trouble getting the back door open, but somebody found a screwdriver and levered the thing open. They extracted the cab passenger, whose face was a mask of blood and seemed only half-conscious. Suddenly something else violently disgorged itself from the car -- a great mass of feathers and claws and angry beak. It scattered the onlookers before climbing skyward and wheeling majestically. It was, I was certain, a California condor.
A news chopper flew overhead -- too low, I thought, and its angle and stuttering engine suggested that shortly it would be crashing. As it passed over our block, several birds flew out the open side -- long-eared owls, judging from the silhouettes.
I suddenly had an idea. Turning away from the window just as the helicopter hit a less lucky building somewhere with a dull KRUMP, I cautiously approached the vulture. It had already fouled my chair, I noted with some distaste. I got my broom and urged it to find another perch. It made a caustic squawk and gracelessly hopped onto the high back of my La-Z-Boy, beating its wings indignantly.
I poked around the top of the chair with the end of the broom. Yep, sure enough: there in the mass of disgusting vulture excrement was a small gold chain -- one I had seen around Janice's neck. On the end of that chain, I saw, was a plain crucifix.
I stalked back to the window. "Dammit!" I shouted at the sky. "It's 'rapture', with a U!" I shook my fist at the clouds.
"You idiot!"
