Fiction: The Owl prepares for a Date

As you know (because you’ve read The Singles Party), your favorite Owl is single. So single that I only sleep in a diagonal starfish. So single that, when I sleep in a diagonal starfish, I can put both feet out on each side of the duvet when it’s too hot in the room. What I mean to say is, it is quite difficult for me to imagine this sort of thing, but I decided, this week, to try an exercise of fiction.

Now, this is asking my beloved readers to really stretch beyond the limit of their imagination, but let’s pretend that something extraordinary has happened: I have a date. Someone asked me out, and I accidentally said yes, because I somewhat thought he was talking about a goat, not going out.

Now, this is something that happens once every leap year, at the full moon, in some planetary alignments, so I decided to go to it, just to appease the merciful gods, and my friends.

The ritual is always the same.

First, I go to them (the friends, not the Gods) and ask for their advice.

“What should I do ? And what should I absolutely not do ?

-Just be yourself, says my positive, sweet Woodchuck friend. You are perfect. You are amazing. You are a true miracle.

-Show your boobs, interposes the Maximus Deleris.

-Except, hesitates the Woodchuck, maybe… don’t mention Doctor Who. Or Dickens. Or David Tennant. You know what ? To be safe, don’t mention anything British. You know how you get when you talk of something British….”

The assembled friends shudder collectively.

“Do not show your boobs, sighs the otter. You’re great, Owl, don’t worry about it, just have a nice evening. But maybe…”

Then the otter, with a side glance at the other friends, adds slowly:

“Maybe you know, try to eat cleanly. And you know, like a normal person would eat. Try also to be reasonable with cake…”

The friends assent silently.

“And, Owl… Try not to be late”, says the Panda.

I won’t be late. I’m never late ! I’ll start preparing early.

First, a bath to smell good…

…then dry the feathers…

…and wait 30 minutes to regain usual shape…

So, what should I wear?

That’s a difficult question. I should have decided days before. Now I’m just taking things out of my drawers, finding out they don’t fit anymore, and throwing them on the ground.

Why don’t we live in a dystopia where we all wear a freaking uniform? As long as it’s blue.

That would be much easier.

There’d be a ceremony where you chose your faction, obviously.

”And you, Owl born in the poor but proud 42nd region, what faction does thou chose ? Speak now !!

-I chose… I chose the one with the Blue Uniform, oh Ye Mighty Sacred Consul!

-Thus you chose the most perilous one, oh precious nocturnal bird, for this is the Sky faction, and you will train in the harshest conditions to help clean our skies. Indeed, thou shallst be a Sky-Scraper !!”

The crowd roars.

Oh no, what hardships, what adversity, and jeering from her enemies who don’t believe that a poor Owl from the 42md division can be anything else than a Bottom-Drawer (the ones in charge of the maintenance and painting of roads). Oh, how the poor Owl suffers, and how hard she works. But look, with the help of a rugged but nice old companion, she becomes better and better. Now she is the best Sky-Scraper that ever was, and is applauded universally for her amazing sky-cleaning abilities. And when the world is in danger because a monstrous gigantic sky-slug destroys everything, who do they call?

Oh Ye Mighty Owl, the future of our world is upon your fabulous shoulders, and…

Shit, I’m going to be late.

Now, Owl, don’t panic, you know when you panic, you run in circles, arms in the air, and it’s useless, just put some clothes on and go.

How should I go there?

I’d walk, but I’m late. I’ll wait for the bus, then.

… (15 minutes later) …

Ok well, I’ll walk.

Oh my God, I am so late. How should I apologize?

Sorry, I waited for the bus.

Sorry, I went to the wrong restaurant, and was totally on time but at a place that was called The Laughing Duck , and not The Crying Hunter.

Sorry, the government needed my sky-cleaning abilities to save the world from a giant slug.

Wait, what am I wearing? I feel like I forgot to put on something…

I can’t even follow the Tyrex’s advice, what with me not being a mammal…

And anyway, why do I go ? I don’t want to go ! I won’t go ! I’ll move in another country and change my name and…

I am already at the restaurant…

Here stops my imagination – how can I imagine which kind of animal the Owl could date ? A fox ? A wolf ? A bear maybe ? Now dear reader, you can tell me, and I’ll write the date.