Joel Haynes

“Don’t even think about it,” the wall bird said.

“Why, what do you mean?” Emma replied, her voice as innocent as she could make it.

“Portal,” said the wall bird. “I know you want to.”

“It never crossed—”

“Of course it did. I know you. You just want to pull my tail feathers.”

“You do have the most interesting tail feathers,” Emma admitted. “They’re beautiful.”

“How would you like it if I pulled your tail feathers?” the bird said. “So stay where you are. Admire from the outside. I’m giving you fair warning.”

“I love your nest,” Emma said, changing the subject. “So beautiful. So delicate.”

“It’s a lot of work,” the bird said. “And don’t change the subject. You’re in a public space. If you entered my space, passersby might snatch your purse, steal your clothes.”

“It might be worth it,” Emma mused.

“It wouldn’t,” bird insisted. “Your nakedness would be on public display.”

Emma shrugged.

“What’s more,” bird continued, “I’d peck and nip your nipples like a house afire. My friends the bees would burrow and buzz deep into your flower and sting the fuck out of it.”

“They would? You would?”

Bird nodded.

Emma portaled.