As you probably know, Miss Creative and her sister and her sister's children will be experiencing Hurricane Earl tomorrow. (So will lots of other people. And pines. And chipmunks.) But there's another hurricane that you don't know about. Going on at the same time. The hurricane inside ME, Bessie Beetum. And the cause of this? Bird Lady. This is how it happened. Miss Creative is getting her things organized. (That's what SHE calls it, anyway. I call it making a bad mess worse.) Anyway. Dear Miss Creative left a whole lot of stuff all over the place. So of course I just couldn't help snooping through everything and discovering---oops, I mean stumbling across completely by accident this...well, this thing called Bird Lady. (I can hardly spit out the name.)
Did you ever see such---such frivolous, SILLY clothing? Such a grotesque, weird wooden creature? Nestled inside a box that is lined with pink tissue paper? (I almost feel sick to my gizzard.) But there's something much worse.
This letter from Bird Lady to Miss Creative that I discovered under a stack of...er, that just happened to come fluttering right under my beak. I can't bear to repeat all the---the sweet talk---that it contains. But look at the signature.
My crop is churning. Miss Creative never wrapped ME in pink tissue paper. She never saved any letters from ME. (Not that I ever wrote her any. And if I did I certainly wouldn't sign myself "Yours forever." But that's beside the point.) Obviously Miss Creative has fallen completely under the spell of this...this insincere, toadying Bird Lady. I fear the worst. It's obvious. I've been supplanted by Bird Lady in Miss Creative's...oh, I can't even think about it anymore....