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Marcel, do you think they can see me up here?
Barney, why do you care?
I don’t know. Maybe I want to be seen. Maybe I don’t want to blend into my background like you do.
What do you mean, like I do? I like being seen. Why else would I go down there and dodge peoples clumsy steps? Barney, you really think about things too hard.
Marcel, it’s just that I’m not as colorful as you are. I tend to blend more and never be seen. And honestly, have you ever been called a crow? I doubt it! Try that one on for size! A crow! Hahaha, as if. Those guys are too noisy.
Barney, you were called a crow?
Yeah, that one day we were down on the sidewalk when that kid walked up to me. He turned around and told his mother that he just found a crow. Do I really look like a crow?
Barney, you don’t look like a crow. Not to mention, your cooing is much softer than the cawing of a crow. That alone should set you apart.
Well, if you really say so Marcel. Thanks for saying that. But really, do you think anyone can see me up here?
©2021 CBialczak flashfiction
Vanity thy name is Barney!
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Sounds like a dialogue in a psychiatrist’s office. Love it 🙂
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