Hot Cinema Buns

Grunt and I walked to the movies last night. It was the hottest day so far this month. It was not entirely unbearable. We were talking about that old tin barn on the corner of Hillcrest and  Mcready. Not so recently its vastness had housed a can recycling plant with a rotting carbohydrates and beer scent that we were now laughing about. The new owners have planted a dozen coastal redwoods in cement reinforced garden boxes along the gravel driveway perimeter. They all appeared alive with nothing amiss.
A baby bird was frying  in front of us. I realized it was alive.  I could not bear to even think of how unkind a death, how unnecessarily harsh a manifestation of Karma a side walk fry-up could turn out to be .Scooping it up I took it into the cinema with me,
I reckoned it would die quietly in my hands and I could dispose of it peacefully in a waste can at this very theater. During the movie with it’s TFF script, it did make its presence known to me. Both my hands fatigued as I cupped it. It stayed alive as we crossed streets home, wandered under some lights, lingering outside a bar with blues playing by Banana Tree Barbie and the IT’S ITS. The owners don’t really like our kind of outdoor- clothes- hanging commrades to linger around. So we went home and the bird was still alive.
Dug out a syringe from  the bottom of a drawer and gave the critter water. The ease of it surprised me. The bird began to chirp straight away. A baby house sparrow, sounding exactly like an adult House Sparrow. Twenty four hours have passed. I feed it Eukanuba chicken cat food for kittens. I like to tease Grunt about the jingle for that brand of cat food. He’s grown so tall. I wish he would eat more but it’s those Joe Camel Bottomfeeder cigarettes that have trapped his appetite. Sons can at times be as easy as birds.