For those of you who follow this blog, you might have noticed a pattern. I usually offer rotating posts of poetry, flash fiction and short articles about writing. I’ve hesitated to offer my latest flash fiction piece because it’s a bit on the weird, morbid and tacky side. A while back in a post called Bluebirds and Rock Gods, I admitted I had a story idea that I felt had to be written about a pestering bluebird. In the post I said I thought the story needed to be a bit creepy and dark. A fellow blogger, Joe Pineda, gave me a bit of advice. He said to try to keep a sense of humor in weaving a morbid tale. The story ended up going a place I never thought it would go. In fact, when I finished it, I had one of those “I didn’t know I had it in me” kind of moments. If you are easily offended or prefer not feel like you need a shower after reading a story, by all means pass this one up. I won’t be offended and we’ll both feel squeaky clean. Otherwise….
The doctor walked into the examination room, acknowledged his new patient with a nod, sat down and flipped through the chart of Neil Holcomb. He pushed his reading glasses up his bulbous nose, checked off a couple boxes on the chart and then looked at his patient, who seemed nervous, his armpits wet with sweat, even though the room was quite cool.
“Well, Neil, you weren’t very specific with your complaint today. You said you were having ‘guy’ problems. Could you tell me more?”
“Doctor, I was fine until two weeks ago. Ever since then, my mojo has been out of whack. My stick has been in park. I can’t get it up, and when I do, I can’t keep it up.”
“That’s not an unusual problem Neil.” The doctor glanced at the chart. “You’re 28 years old with a job in management?”
“Have you been under a lot of stress lately? Have you and your … let’s see here – you’re not married. Have you and your partner noticed any symptoms prior to last week?”
“I don’t exactly have a partner.” He looked down at his hands and shifted in his chair, embarrassed and uncomfortable.
“Oh. I see.”
No you don’t doctor. The problem isn’t just me. It’s that damn blue bird.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow and with hesitance asked, “What bluebird?”
“The one that showed up pecking at my window right as I was about to shoot my load. It scared the hell out of me and it wouldn’t leave and well… ever since then I can’t get hard and if do I can’t stay hard.”
“You’re telling me that a bluebird is causing your erectile dysfunction?”
“It sounds crazy when you say it out loud like that. But it’s true. And the thing stares at me. As soon as I even think about trying again – there it is. At my living room window. At my kitchen window. At my bedroom window… day, night, afternoon. Doesn’t matter. I can’t even think about unzipping my pants and that bird shows up with those beady little eyes, cocking its head from side to side and then starts pecking at the window.”
“Neil, have you tried closing your blinds?”
“Yes, I’ve closed the blinds but I can see its shadow, and not only that, how does it even know what I’m doing when my blinds are closed? Explain that.”
“I don’t think the bird really cares what you’re doing. I think the bird interrupted you at an inopportune moment and now you’ve gotten too focused on the bird, and it’s caused you some temporary performance anxiety. There are some things we can do, and if you’ll follow my advice you’ll be back in business in no time.”
Neil did just as the good doctor suggested. He mounted a birdfeeder away from his house so that the bird would be drawn to it instead of his windows. He took the pill sample the doctor gave him for ‘encouragement.’ He made sure all the blinds and curtains were closed. Then he turned some music up in the house so he wouldn’t even hear the pecking if the bird did show up. The doc also suggested turning the lights down in the house and relaxing.
He didn’t see or hear the bird. Perfect. He turned on one of his favorite porn sites and began to feel a stir. He hesitated for a moment and then unzipped his jeans. No bird. The good doc was right. He watched the images in front of him and began to enjoy the moment. He closed his eyes, allowing the fullness of the experience to take over. His mojo was back and he loved every second of it. He opened his eyes to take another glance at the naked beauties on the screen. He froze in terror. Perched on the top of his laptop were two of those blue birds, looking at him in curious wonder. Was he seeing things? Had he lost his mind? He tried to move but he was too scared to, and dammit his erection wouldn’t go away after taking that medicine.
The birds seemed to be in conference with each other. With dread, Neil realized they weren’t bluebirds.
They were woodpeckers.
Image by Microsoft ClipArt
Please also check out Joe Pineda The Bard of Steel