The Casa del Whackos is truly going to the birds. As a result, Mom can no longer trusted to go unsupervised to the Flea Market, in addition to the Farmer’s Coop.
After running around with Alex and Oba all morning, she shows up back at the Casa with a bribe in her hand; a big sack of crawfish. It seems that there was a guy at the flea market hawking his wares, and there is not a meal known to mankind that compares to crawdads. And this particular batch was beyond fantastic, the perfect combination of heat and salt, so for the next short eternity I chainsawed through the entire bag.
Then I noticed that Mom wasn’t partaking; hmmm… something’s afoot. Where is she, anyway? Then I see her slinking around the side of the house, carrying a wire cage; this is never a good sign at the Casa. This means she’s either A: trying catch something or B: carry something home, and both scenarios inevitably mean another varmint will be soon be joining the current gaggle of inmates.
But this time it’s not one but four. Four QUAIL, for crying out loud. Why? Why quail? We can eat them, she says. Right…. like I’m buying THAT one. Then as the day goes by, the plan changes from eating them to “well, we can eat their eggs”. Have you seen a quail egg? It would take at least 27 of the things to make even one omelet, and that’s if you add a little milk!
During this discussion, we discover that one of the quail has passed on to his or her final reward. You know, flown the covey for the last time. So now we have three remaining birds whose respective lives of luxury are all but guaranteed; Mom has already went and bought quail food and is trying to guilt me in to holding one of the obnoxious little peepers, even though she knows what’s going to happen. It’s what has always happened; she and the kids used to get mad and go into a pout when whatever critter they drug home always ended up liking me best.
And that’s the gospel truth.
And now the rest of the story: later tonight, I’m chillilng like a villain with a couple of the dogs out in the Cave Canem, when the door opens.
Hey! We have two girls and a boy!
Who is this “we” you speak of? And how can you tell a boy quail from a girl quail? Wait a minute, I do NOT want to know!
Well, you pull up their tail feathers, and squeeze their butts, and if this white stuff comes out, it’s a boy…
NO! NO! NOOOOOO!!!!……..
Too late. My mind’s retinas are damaged beyond repair. My life is over. I am eternally scarred, as that’s an image I will never be able to shake, no matter how hard I strive… and to know that she actually researched that particular bit of information and felt the call to share it with me; well, that’s just too heavy of a load for me to bear.
I cannot go on.