Mortification

After 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7, the next prompt from Poetigress was "betrayal."

     Spring's got a lot of good things about it, of course.  The 

way the weather sweetens up, for instance, means that those of us 

at the house who are still somewhat self-propelled can get out and 

around the neighborhood more often.  Exercise like that makes 

Donna and Eric, our physical therapists, happy, and anytime the 

PTs're smiling, we all smile.

     The thing is, though, nice weather means everyone in 

the neighborhood starts shifting around more, and when the human 

residents in their minivans and SUVs cross paths with the furry 

and feathery population, well, the technical term for that is 

'roadkill.'  And wheeling along the sidewalks this time of year, I 

start coming across more and more of it.

     Usually, though, I'll find crows picking at the carcass 

rather than being the carcass, so rounding the corner to 

see a crow lying on his back out in the middle of the street made 

me grab my rims and pull myself to a halt.  And even though I'd 

heard on the radio a while ago that humans in scientific tests 

have shown themselves unable to tell one crow from another, this 

one looked like Jefe, the big crow who'd been taunting El Brujo 

lately from the roof of the De La Vega's house next door.

     Damn! was my first thought, but then...then I noticed 

how he didn't seem to be squished the way most animals I see out 

in the roads are.  And when he moved a wing to cover his face and 

moaned, I felt a flash of relief as warm as the sunlight popping 

out from the big clouds drifting by overhead.  "Not the best place 

to sleep off a hangover, Jefe," I called.

     "Hangover??"  The crow groaned.  "Ha!  'Cause that'd go away 

after a couple hours!  But this?  This is the end.  The end!"

     I didn't feel confident enough to try wheeling off the curb, 

so I stayed put beside the big ficus tree.  "Anything I can do?"

     He raised his head and glared those black eyes at me.  "You 

gotta way to turn time backwards?  To go back to me as an egg so 

you can tip me outta the nest, crack me open, and make me never 

get born?  You got something can do that?"  He flopped back onto 

the pavement.  "Or maybe you tip out Honoria's egg, huh?  She's 

the one poisoned me and left me to rot!"

     "Wait.  Your sister poisoned you??"

     A gust of a sigh.  "It's a metaphor, tonto!"

     "Oh.  But what--?"

     "A dagger!" he shouted, his harsh voice echoing from the 

houses along both sides of the street, and he mimed the actions as 

he described them: "She stabbed me in the chest, sliced through my 

ribs, tore my heart out, and flew off with it still beating in her 

beak!"  He pressed his wings flat against the road.  "I got 

nothing left to live for.  Nothing!"

     All I could do was blink.  "Still not getting what happened."

     He leaped to his claws.  "That's 'cause you got no poetry in 

you!  You don't know what it's like to write love sonnets for a 

beautiful, unattainable female ideal in the privacy of your 

journal only to stumble over your damn sister reading it, hear her 

cackle how she's gonna tell, and watch her go flapping off to ruin 

your whole life!  You got no idea how--!"

     Cawing laughter behind me, and I twisted around to see 

Honoria herself perched on the ivy-covered brick wall around the 

Grants' front yard.  "Oh, the drama!"  She pressed a wing to her 

forehead and rolled her eyes closed.  "Oh, the pathos!"

     Jefe launched into a string of words that I hope you'll 

forgive me if I don't reproduce here, but Honoria only laughed 

more.  "Wasted breath, brother," she said.  "Your precious 

secret's still yours."

     "You--"  His eyes went wide.  "You...you mean you 

didn't...didn't--?"

     A click of her beak.  "It's more fun holding on to it."  She 

turned to look at me.  "Brother's in love with your cat, y'see."

     His shriek knocked leaves into my lap.  "Honoria!"

     She flicked a wing at me.  "Who's he gonna tell?"  Leaping 

from the top of the wall, she sailed over Jefe, his wings covering 

his face again.  "Later, brother!"

     Silence for a moment, Jefe looking shriveled as a raisin.  

Then I sighed.  "Come on, Jefe."

     He peered out from between his feathers.  

"What...what..what're you gonna--?"

     "I want you to meet a friend of mine."  I spun and started 

toward the Ramsays' place.  "You and Traveler need to compare 

notes."

And next is 9.