The Question

“All right, Mr. Robin and Missy Bee, Mama said y’all were the ones to ask so I hurried outside to see you.”

“Don’t look so concerned, child. Mr. Robin and I know practically everything. I am absolutely certain we'll be able to help you. So ask away, darling.”

“Oh, do, do! Though don’t mind me, I see a fat little worm that I’m just going to snag for a snack while you chatter. Knew a parrot once that chattered. Used to be a sailor and boy, could that thing talk yer ear off!”

“Perhaps you’re related, Mr. Robin, as you can’t seem to let the young lady get a word in edgewise.”

“Touche! Touche! Great, now I’m repeating like that dang parrot! Carry on, kid.”

“Well, you see, Mama doesn’t seem to know where I came from. And I’m awfully curious. She said you two would know.”

“I’m pretty sure you were hatched out, kid. My brother-in-law’s sister’s husband’s son, twice removed, is a stork and he delivers wrinkled little mammals to grown ups, so I know, ya know?”

“So a stork brought me to Mama? But where did the stork get me?”

“Ya hatched, kid. Like I said. Probably from some crow egg. Stinkin’ crows. Think they own everything!”

“My dear, as intelligent as Mr. Robin is, he is quite wrong about your delivery. As a bee, I have seen the whole process. You see, darling, there are special cabbage patches where babies grow. My sisters and I have helped pollinate those patches and after each cabbage ripens, it opens to reveal a bouncing baby boy or girl.”

“So Mama picked me from the garden?”

“Indeed, she did. Cabbage number forty-two, row seven, as I recall. The pollen was particularly sweet that year. More females bloomed than males that year.”

“She’s yankin’ yer chain, kid, just like my cousin Boobie. Feet as blue as all get out and a comedian to boot. Take my word for it, ya were hatched from a crow egg and delivered by stork.”

“Are you calling me a liar, sir?”

“If the stinger fits!”

“Don’t you flap your wings at me, Mr. Robin! I’ll have you know my species is the most honest and truthful and –”

“Conceited and painful and –”

“Painful? I’ll show you pain, you big...big...birdbrain!”

“But...but...all I wanted to know was where I came from. Oh, boy. There they go. And I was so sure they could tell me where babies come from and then I could go explain it to Mama. But I guess even the birds and the bees don’t know. Hmmm. Maybe I should go ask Mrs. Flower and Old Mr. Tree instead...”



Written For ▼

"The Dialogue 500" 
May 2021