alex rost – bird in the shop

A bird got into the shop, flew around and around the running presses in a panic, searching for a path to freedom. We tried to herd it out. You know, clapped our hands, hollered “HEY BIRD” and shit like that. One of those situations that makes work stop. A welcome distraction. I mean, distractions are always welcome. Anything different, any break from the same, the same, the same. Like the time the sewer lines backed up and caused little puddles of black, inky shit water to bubble out of the drains in the floor. We all looked at each other saying, We’re fucked. Can’t use the water. What are we gonna do? Can’t work without water, but really I was thinking, Yes! We’re fucked! and daydreaming about the three extra hours I’d have at home, about how I wasn’t going to waste it, adding days and weeks worth of plans into that three hour dream, but what I ended up doing was smoking weed and watching porn while thinking - there will always be time. 

We lost sight of the bird and couldn’t find it, figured it must have flown out, but I caught sight of it early the next morning before anyone else came in, up in the corner of the shop where we keep shit we’ll never use again. It didn’t fly away when I came close, just made these little spastic head movements and  looking at me out of the sides of his head.

I propped open the side door, went back to the bird.

“It’s okay, old girl,” I said. “We’ll get you outta here.”

But the bird stayed put. The spastic movements slowed and it kind of settled into its perch like it was saying, “I’m good for now.”

I started thinking about having a shop bird. You see auto mechanics keeping shop cats, why not shop birds? I’d leave out some water and a bowl of berries or some shit, it’d make a little nest out of paper trimmings and cardboard. I’d start my day in the darkness of the morning and hear its first chirps of the day. One day, there’d be more than one bird chirping. A whole chorus of chirps. I’d give them each names, but not some bullshit I pulled out of my ass. No, I’d take my time, get to know their individual nuances before christening them. The morale around the shop had been a little low, a family of birds? Fucking perfect.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” said the big dude with tribal tattoos that snuck up behind me. “Oh shit, is that the bird?”

He came over and clapped his hands under the bird and it took to the air. I stood still while he threw open the dock doors and followed the bird around, “HEY BIRD!’’ until it flew into the fresh sunlight.

He strutted up wearing his gap toothed smile. “Fuckin’ bird’s gone. We almost got stuck with a shop bird.”

He made this face he does where shrugs his shoulders and opens his mouth real wide like he’s about to let out one hell of a bellowing laugh but then makes no sound. Like an anti laugh.

“Yeah,” I said. “Good riddance.”


ALEX ROST runs a commercial printing press outside of Buffalo, NY and fills notebooks when no one is looking.
@arost154


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