Mr. Custard had never noticed it until the man pointed it out at the bank, but it was true, he did have a bird on a cat on his head.
Baffled, he trudged back home in a daze. Suddenly all those years of people pointing at him made sense. The whispering and laughing. That strange weight on his head that made his neck ache. All the pieces fell into place. It was like in the film The Matrix when stuff like deja vu is explained, and you realise that the Matrix is real, and we all live in it.
He needed a sit down and a cup of tea. A proper one, out of his extra large Spider-Man mug.
Cradling the oversized mug in his shaking hands, Mr. Custard eased onto the sofa in his front room.
“What does one do in a situation such as this?” Mr. Custard whispered to himself.
“We’re just glad you know about us now,” the bird said.
“Yes, we’ve been trying to work out how to break it to you for quite a while. But since we didn’t mention it straight away we felt it would be awkward to bring it up, so we kept quiet,” the cat elaborated.
“It’s been a pretty awkward couple of decades, if I’m honest,” the bird chirped, “Sitting about on this cat, who coincidentally is sitting about on your head. I haven’t called my mum in years. My wings are all stiff.”
“It’s hardly a flipping picnic for me!” the cat was anxious to let everyone know he was not enjoying himself. “I feel like the filling in a sandwich! Like a piece of ham, or some salad. It’s rubbish. I think I need some counselling.”
The pair went back and forth for a bit, all the while Mr. Custard listened as best he could while sipping his tea. It certainly was a predicament, and none of the participants in this strange inverted food chain tower seemed happy to be part of it. He sloshed the tea between his teeth, musing as it cooled. He knew over time this practice would stain his teeth, but he couldn’t give a damn, he had a bird sat on a cat on his head.
It was then that the idea came to him.
“Guys!” he interrupted. “Have you ever thought about just… getting off?”
There was a pause. The bird cleared his throat. The cat coughed. And then the pair shuffled about a bit and stood up, toppling onto the sofa beside Mr. Custard. The two animals dusted themselves off in silence, now separated, and then looked at Mr. Custard.
“Bit embarrassing, really. I wish we had spoken to you sooner,” the cat said.
“Oh well, at least it all worked out in the end,” Mr. Custard shrugged.
The trio said their goodbyes, shook hands, and the bird and the cat went their separate ways, leaving Mr. Custard to finish his tea.
Thanks to Dan H. for the image, not sure where he got it from (will update if the information turns up).
Animal on Animal. 