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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2087878-Flock-of-Crows
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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Comedy · #2087878
A group of birds is spied. Tangent ensues.
“You’re not using it right.”

“Using what right?”

“It’s not a ‘flock’. It’s a ‘murder’.”

“That’s pretty morbid. Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Who’s the English Major here?”

“Not you. You didn’t finish—”

“Who, of the two of us, almost was an English Major, assuming the dean hadn’t been a royal ass and expelled me from the campus?”

“Dude, you were charged with sexual harassment.”

“He was totally reading me wrong! Stop. We’re not going through this again. Not while I’m still waiting on a court date.”

“Yeah, but a murder? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“But why?”

“Because it is.”

“Yeah, but why? You’re hearing my inflection, right? I’m asking the why here, not just because.”

“Oh. Well it’s from Shakespeare. He blamed the killings of Brigadoon on a flock of crows. The whole flock was covered in blood and when they took flight, the blood flew everywhere, making it look like a murderous cloud of blood and guts in the air. Like a murder of crows.”

“You just make that up, Jer?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Google it.”

“Hmm, it says that they can caw a lot and it sounds like someone screaming bloody murder. Also mentions something about them being associated with battlefields. Also mentions that Game of Thrones book. The fourth season.”

“Oh, God.”

“What?”

“The fourth season? Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s a great show.”

“I know that. I told you to start watching it before it started because I read the books.”

“Yeah, and I do. What’s your deal?”

“The show is called Game of Thrones but that’s not what it’s called.”

“Oh, brother…”

“Don’t roll your eyes at me! It’s A Song of Ice and Fire. Only the first  book is called A Game of Thrones. Article and all!”

“Okay, okay, geez!”

“And the fourth book is called A Feast for Crows. Because they talk about tons of soldiers dying and shit.”

“Jerry, I got it. You’re in love with George Martin.”

“George R. R. Martin.”

“Whatever. Can we get back to my point? Because that… murder of crows over on my car is freaking me out. And I don’t see anyone else out here and it’s the middle of the day and this whole day has that End-of-the-World-vibe to it, ya know? Hey, you listening?”

“You know he specifically requests to have the two R’s printed and pronounced, right?”

“Get off it, Jerry! Let it go because we’re going back into my apartment to watch the news. I see more flocks in the distance.”

“Murder.”

“I’m gonna if you don’t shut up! And those look like seagulls or geese. Come on.”



Word Count: 441
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