Hector and Barney sat overlooking a dusty Southeast country lane one lazy summer afternoon. Soon, one of them noticed a small object.
“Hey, Barney, see that?”
“See what?”
“On the road there. Looks like a tiny lizard.”
“Ain’t no lizard,” Barney said, “It’s an insect.”
“I tell you it’s a lizard,” Hector said. “You’re getting old.”
“No I ain’t,” he said. And with a flap of his wings Barney swooped down, scooped up the skittering object in his beak and landed gracefully back on the telephone wire.
“Well, was it a lizard?”
“No,” mumbled Barney the blackbird, swallowing. “A roach. Yum.”