Floyd Kelly

It was one of those weirdly quiet mornings. I was sitting in the dining room, halfway through a bowl of my favorite chorizo cereal, staring out the window and thinking about absolutely nothing, when I saw him. There, on top of Aunt Jezzie’s garden shed, was my neighbor, Gary. He was wildly flapping his arms and clucking like a giant, very troubled chicken.

I just thought to myself “Not again.”

I could see Aunt Jezzie was already in the yard, looking furious in her leopard-print robe and fuzzy slippers. “GARY!” she yelled, pointing a shaky finger at her army of 32 inflatable pink flamingos. “I told you, DON’T TOUCH THEM!”

Gary, whose hair was sticking up like a punk rocker, just shouted back, “Foo-Foo told me they’re fake!” I just shook my head and giggled, Foo-Foo is Jezzie’s tiny, pop-eyed dog who supposedly lives on a diet of beef jerky and scrambled eggs. That dog has gas that could peel paint.

I slid my window open. “Gary! Buddy, why are you up there?”

He turned to me slowly, wobbled for a second, then pointed a bandaged finger at the flamingos. He whispered like we were in a spy movie, “They’re watching. They send signals with their heads. It’s feathered Morse code.”

Suddenly, Jezzie had enough and yelled out “You freak!” She then grabbed a rolled-up newspaper, and threw it like a dart. It sailed right past Gary’s head, hit a wind chime with a loud CLANG, and startled him so bad he did a full spin. His arms waved wildly in the air, he bounced off a flamingo with a loud squeak, and then crashed right into her compost pile.

A cloud of old grass clippings shot up and a raccoon went scurrying away.

Jezzie screamed. Gary popped up a second later seeming quite confused, a banana peel stuck to his forehead. He looked right at Jezzie and squeaked, “Granny is that you?”

Then he passed out cold.

I stood at the window, watching the aftermath. Jezzie was poking Gary with a broom handle now. Foo-Foo was yapping wildly. Jezzie stood frozen, her hands on her hips. Foo-food then trotted over to the compost pile, sniffed unconscious Gary with an air of excited inspection, and then hiked his tiny leg.

Jezzie just threw her hands in the air and walked back inside. I decided it was probably a good time to close the blinds.