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{josh} edward nudelman In the morning around 8 AM as Josh was cutting around the segments of a grapefruit, his brain suddenly turned into a feather pillow. His wife, who instantly noticed goose down escaping from one ear, was alarmed. Outside, a child walking to school followed the line of feathers streaming from the window and diverted herself long enough to collect a number of them. At school, she took some of the feathers from Josh’s brain and blew them upwards toward the ceiling. This angered the teacher who collected most of them into his pocket. Mr. Demaris threw down his pants later that night and washed them in the dark load. The feathers were water-logged and worn as he pulled them out of his pockets the following day. For a brief moment he thought about placing them in a pop-up-lid garbage can, but instead laid them on top of the washing machine. By mid-day, the feathers from Josh’s brain had all but dried. A few were carried by a sudden suction of air down the hallway into the living room, up, and then out the chimney. In the warm air, a bird caught one of the feathers and brought it to her nest. She then laid four blue eggs. |
