by Harish Shankaran
“No! No! No! No not again!” I screamed, as my fingers started sprouting feathers.
“Curse you and your damned spell, you stupid blind man! I swear I will hunt you down motherfu… kaa…kaaa …kaaa.”
It had been three days, since the transformations had begun. I had yet to come to terms with the concept of randomized avian makeovers. I lost my way flying the other night. I had woken up later as myself, somewhere unfamiliar. High up on a tree. Naked.
“I don’t think I ever wanted to be a bird” I surmised, as I struggled to glide across the thermals.
“A superhero? Yes!”
“Part bird, part human? Awesome.”
“A plain, regular bird? Hell! That way, I am not even cool among birds!”
A playful wind mocked and incited me.
“And it’s certainly no fun waking up as a man with a half-eaten rodent in your mouth! I really don’t know if I would die as a freak human contracting plague, or of starvation as a choosy bird!”
“There… Mr. Sun decides to go down. Night-vision flight mode on! Ok this will be…”
“…Bloody Blundering Bird-Mother!” I botch my landing yet again and ram my beak into a tree, “Aaanw mny knose!”
“I’ll admit that the flying bit is cool. I bet I could master this… if I survive these crash landings, that is.”
But then that’s about it. I hate everything else. I don’t think I will ever be able to live like a… “
“Oooooh! A Rabbbbbbbit… exotic!”