Coo Coo

On a bench sat a pigeon, and it seemed to be talking to itself. It had a large piece of bread, which one might assume it was saving for later. Soft "coo" after soft "coo" was uttered as a stately gaze was spread over the park.

A little boy ran with arms flapping toward the park bench. The perched pigeon looked curiously at the boy. The boy stumbled about, traveling in circles before noticing the pigeon.

With a bend and a flick of the head, the pigeon had lifted the bread and tossed it toward the child. The child, like a maniac, picked it up and began picking at it. Nonchalantly, another pigeon flew toward the bench and started softly, casually cooing. "Coo, coo."

The little boy was then tearing the bread frantically, perhaps, one might surmise, because the bed was stale, ripping back and forth.

A smaller pigeon, with quicker movements, certainly a youth, swooped down across into the scene with tremendous and uncalled-for commotion, flapping ferociously.

The child became frightened and ran off pathetically.

The small pigeon having fled the scene, the more mature pigeons began in conversation, perhaps about the child human or child pigeon. "Coo." "Coo."