This night is not unlike most nights for the two birds. There are fewer birds and elves than usual and no other creatures. They discuss many topics, but they don’t always get along.
“You think they have any of those little pretzel sticks here?” Jacob says.
“Ask him.” Thomas says.
“Hey Lutin? You got pretzel sticks, Eh?”
“Nah. But I got those pickled eggs you like.”
Jacob slices his wing by his neck signaling Lutin to stop talking. Thomas glares at Jacob.
“You cannibal freak!”
“Relax Tommy. They’re chicken eggs and they ain’t got no babies in there.”
“That’s not the point. I knew you couldn’t be trusted. You’re just like all the other Jays stealing bird eggs. You’re sick, you know that? You’re a sick bird.”
Lutin rests his elbow on the counter and his chin in his hand. He watches with excitement.
“Don’t be a hoser. You know me. You know I ain’t a thief.”
“Then why you eatin’ eggs!? And what the hell is a hoser?”
“Look, I’m sohrry. I never ate the eggs in front of you ‘cause I know how you feel aboot it. But chickens lay eggs all the time not just when they have babies like we do. Just try one and see if you like it.”
“Hell no! I ain’t no cannibal. I gotta use the john. You better have forgotten about them eggs when I get back.”
The Hens are quiet as Thomas walks past. He sees his reflection in the mirror.
“What are you lookin’ at!?” Thomas says.
No one speaks while he’s gone. The commotion has subsided and Lutin returns his attention to the television looking bored. Thomas walks out and again sees his reflection.
“Still starin’? You got something to say? Don’t mess with me, man. I’m from Southie!”
Thomas struts back to his seat with his feathers ruffled.
“That guy’s getting on my nerves.”
“There’s no one there, Tommy. It’s a mirror, Eh.”
“Don’t tell me what I saw. You weren’t there.”