C. A. Broadribb
“Quirky qwerty, quirky qwerty,” a bird trills. “Quirky flirty lurty purty qwerty.”
A b buzzes past u, flying around and around in loops, happy in the morning sunshine.
Buzzy… b… buzz… buzz… b.
“Quirky qwerty, quirky qwerty,” the bird trills again.
It’s a blue j, u realise. Blue head, blue on its back. Hopping around.
U lie back in your garden recliner, sipping a cup of t. It’s lightly spiced chai t, perfect for the occasion. U watch the b flit from flower to flower amongst the flower bed.
“Quirky lirty nirty qwerty,” the bird trills meaninglessly.
Off in the distance, the c laps gently against the sand. It’s a peaceful endless blue from this viewpoint.
Your cat K wanders in from the side path and goes to sniff at a rose bush. She pauses to p underneath the branches.
“Quirky qwerty, qwerty quirky,” the bird trills enthusiastically.
The cat looks at u with one green i. She loves u.
“O, it’s such a lovely day,” u say.
“O yes, it is,” the cat replies.
U sit up quickly. Did the cat talk or did u fall asleep for a moment and dream it?
“Y does it bother u? Relax,” the cat says.
She has a point. U can join the q of eccentric people. U lie back and drink more t.
“Quirky qwerty, quirky qwerty,” the bird trills.
C. A. Broadribb lives in Sydney and writes both fiction and non-fiction. This piece was inspired by a dream. Return to PUZ Index