Albatross, guarding a pair of eggs he’s told are his; mother is off gossiping and flirting, possibly being preened- he snorts loudly and tosses his head. This pile of rock- it’s fine to visit, but hanging around like you live here- not so good; nothing to see but birds and big fat things that drag themselves out of the water and pretend they’re dogs. They’re not fooling anyone. What time is it? Yes, that’s the SouthMidWesternthenNorth wind he feels creeping up- ah- that’s the one to ride- carry you as far as the Citadel on a good day.
A quick glance at the eggs, sitting there helplessly, if he leaves them alone they’ll be eaten by the first thing that reaches them; what to do, what to do. Oh- is that Schmuck? It looks like him- who else has that bent tail? Talk Schmuck into eggsitting, not hard, he likes to, but never gets the chance. Tell him to insist that he’s the father, it’s not his problem if mom doesn’t remember; what did she eat that night? Stick to this story, get some babies, maybe a little street cred; be firm, Schmuck, be firm.
Hit the WindHead, let it carry him, watch his shadow below until he falls asleep; something will wake him, it always does. Dream of a Mermaid feeding him tiny, bite-sized fishes, a squeeze of fresh lemon for each one, she’s dedicated; butter drips, they’re sweet and succulent, open his beak- wham! Into a massive Cypress. It takes ten minutes to disentangle himself, he drops to the ground, pretty much together, nothing broken.
Tantalus appears, a fresh coconut in one hand, a chicken under his other arm. Everyone ignores the large bald spot on the Albatross, he’s ready for the Temple party, where’s the tea? Lead me to the tea for Gods’ sake, and then the Mermaid- no seaweed- who eats that stuff? Who’s the big guy with the little Dame? She’s cute, I’d give her a wink if I could- birds can’t fucking wink- who’s idea was that? You need to see both eyes at the same time for a wink to be effective, otherwise you’re just closing one eye; are you asleep? How can she tell?
Bear him on a litter, down the long, soothing path; hear him maintain perfect conviction in his ability to fly wherever they need to go. Who is that? What’s that smell? Pork? You have pork cooking? Not the underground one- is it? Ah! Yay! Lucky day for this Albatross- toss the fish- no maybe the fish for starters, tea? Is there tea? Okay- this is good, what is this? Creamy, sweet, is that Rum? Did I mention how fetching you look in that skirt, Majesty? I think a saw a Royal kneecap there- ah ha ha-
The Albatross is a big hit at the Luau, they make him a luxe nest, and a crown of flowers and ivy; he forgets he ever had an egg.