Midday Emma and Blue went for a walk.

“It’s so nice out,” Emma remarked.

“Perfect,” Blue said.

“And we have the place all to ourselves.”

“Yes, except for that guy over there.”

“That old guy? What’s he doing?”

“He’s got binoculars. He’s probably a birdwatcher.”

“Yeah, except he’s watching us.”

“Tweet, tweet,” Blue chirped.

“Peep peep,” Emma peeped.

“Quack,” Blue quaked.

“You’re silly,” Emma said.

“Quack,” Blue quacked.

“If you could be a bird what kind of bird would you be?”

“Bluebird,” said Blue.

“Not a blue jay?” questioned Emma.

“Bluebird,” said Blue. “What about you?”

“I’d be a bluebird too,” Emma said.

“Sincerely?”

“Yes.”

“Then we could be mates,” Blue said.

“Or at least BFFs,” Emma said. “Is he still watching us?”

“He is,” Blue said. “Rude guy.”

“We should show him rude,” Emma said.

“Like give him the finger or something?” Blue suggested.

“Let’s sit down on that bench over there and think about it,” Emma said.

“Nice looking bench,” Blue said. “But with our short frocks...”

“And no panties...”

“That would give him something to see.”

“Unless we placed our hands judiciously.”

“Very judiciously.”

“Covering up the juicy parts.”

“Would that be rude enough?”

“I think so.”

Emma and Blue sat, making sure to cover their juicy parts.

“Oh, is that a pterodactyl over there?” Emma said, pointing.

“Probably just a wren.”

“Or a finch.”

“Or a dickybird.”

“Do you even know what a dickybird is?”

“No, do you?”

“Do you know what my favorite bird is?” Emma asked.

“No, what?”

“Bluebird.”

“Me too.”

“Because they come in pairs.”

“They do.”

Emma and Blue laughed.

“Birds of a feather,” Blue said.

“Stick together,” Emma said.

They laughed again.

Then they kissed.