The Celestial Blueprint and Others Stories (15 page)

BOOK: The Celestial Blueprint and Others Stories
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She handed him the scotch. Instantly, the jagbird stuck its big bulbous beak between cup and lip.

“Hid”

Jay handed the glass back to Kathy.

“See?”

She didn’t. He explained. Instead of relaxing, her eyes slitted even more, and her nails scratched his arm.

“Do you mean this bird will
always
be with us? Even after we’re married? We’ll
never
be alone?”

There was no soft plaintive note in her voice. Only a hiss of anger and determination.

He patted her arm. “It’s not a real bird, kitten.
You
can’t see it.”

“No, but I’ll know it’s therel I won’t be able to forget it. It’ll make me nervous as a catl Not only that, but I don’t like your giving up liquor because of some crazy bird. I want you to do it on your own will power, to stand on your own two feet.”

“If it weren’t for my totem,” he said, “I’d not be standing on my feet now. I’d be under the table at the Green Lizard.”

“That’s what I thoughtl” she spat. “Where is the jagbird now?”

He jerked his thumb at the end table, where it perched, sleepy-eyed, upon the ceramic bust of a Silenus. She stared vainly, burst into tears, and said, “Oh, if only I could see it! If only ...”

She stopped and dried her eyes. She became soft and furry-voiced.

“What is the address of this Dr. Capra, honey?”

It was a moment before he could see what she intended doing. She looked unconcernedly at him and even yawned, as if the whole matter had all at once become of no importance.

He blinked rapidly, like a startled owl. The outlines of her body had wavered and then congealed. They had remained fixed for only the space of a wink, but long enough. There was no mistaking the long bristling whiskers, the fangs revealed by the yawn, and the narrow-pupiled eyes. Nor the I’m-about-to-swallow-the-canary expression.

He strode past her, scooped up the jagbird, and lunged through the door.

Kathy screamed, “Jay, come back!”

“Nevermore!” croaked the bird, its head sticking out from under its owner’s arm.

Jay Martin is now married to a little woman with a spaniel’s big brown eyes. Her devotion to him has been described by their friends as dog-like. They act like two lovebirds. He no longer drinks like a fish, and he has become a whale of a success in the business world. He seems to be gifted with some uncanny instinct which enables him to judge a person’s character at a glance. Last year he joined the bulls, cornered the bears, and made a big killing among the wolves of Wall Street.

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