Thank you, @marcoriccardi and @tristancarax,
for reviving the Finish the Story contest! Thank you especially for the clever band of hungry, displaced, disgruntled, thieving and marauding emus. Oh the fun we could have with 700 (or 7000!) words, with a subject like this!
source: Nel_Botha-NZ
Brotherhood in Trouble
Here we were, in the bar with large sticks being pointed at us. Dun Dee and Jasper just snatch three large boxes of fries from the two families seated near the kangaroo statue. Luke, being the smallest of us four, snagged a couple of bags from toddlers, which were, presumably, filled with burgers and more fries; and I had enough drinks for the four of us.
"You know who we are," I squawked.
"We do," said a jittery human. "We told you this would happen if you come back."
I stood my ground by raising my chest in the air, ruffling my feathers. I stretched out my long neck and showed my sharp, strong beak to the tourists and workers. Showing them who was boss of this outback was of the highest importance. Little did the humans know of respect for other lives than their own. The time had come for a little lesson and the emu brotherhood was going to show the humans their power.
"You are on our turf, human," I said. I scratched my leg with the other foot. "You invaded our lands with your dwellings and forced us out. You owe us."
"It's the way of the world," a chubby-faced human yelled out. "Do you know how many of us have lost our homes?"
No! Not the pity card. Not the best time. Luke was a sucker for pity. He almost always felt bad for the other side, the human side.
"My mommy had to work two jobs to pay for what that jack-ass of a bird has taken from me," said a tiny human who sat by the waterfall.
I looked at Luke. He was cracking. I could tell by the way his knee shook, by the way his beak clattered together. He was about to drop the goods and run. Think!
"Any last words, birdie?" asked a slim human.
"Gentleman and Ladies," I said as I moved my wing over several spears and pushed the tips down. "There is no need to be hostile. The rule is you feed us daily - morning and night - and we leave you alone until feeding time. Easy. Simple. If our demands for respect are not taken into consideration, bigger things will happen. Scary things. Strange things. And you don't want these bigger things to happen because, if they do, you will be paid a visit from the great emu elder - and he does not take kindly to humans who disregard the sacred pact between human and emu."
Like the night inching its way into the light, the tips of the spears rose again and drew closer to me.
"What the fuck are you talking about," said a human behind a cash register. His eyes grew big like the moon and sinister like Chucky. "Good people. Let’s cook some bird to cover the cost of what we've lost. Sound like a plan?"
The whole restaurant said yes in unison, which made me shiver. It couldn't have gotten darker for us in the brotherhood, even if Alfred Hitchcock was hired to scare the piss out of us. Birds or not, in the eyes of humans, we were thieves. And thieves had to be dealt with.
[You continue...]
Luke dropped the goods,
as I knew he would. I fixed my gaze on the other two, who always looked to me for their next move. I set down the drinks. Dun Dee and Jasper laid their goods before the human at the cash register, but the way their eyes focused on me, I knew they didn't trust this apparent surrender.
"Your burgers never have enough caterpillars and grubs anyway," I complained, channeling Aesop's fox with the sour grapes. But I was channeling more than that. "Worse yet," I sneaked a glance at the humans, "you overcook all your worms."
That drew some collective gasps from the customers.
"Worms?" A matronly woman stood up, glaring at the proprietor. "You've been grinding WORMS into our burgers?"
"Of course not!" the proprietor protested. "Nothing but pure angus beef here. They're just ruffling your feathers. So to speak."
"Or pure angus kangaroo." I paused to let that one sink in. "Which is illegal for you humans to harvest from the wild. Desperate measures for desperate times, eh?"
The spear tips started shifting in uncertain hands.
"Check out the kitchen," I said, looking from face to gaping human face. "See for yourself what he's cooking."
"Nobody is allowed in my kitchen." Mr. Proprietor pointed to an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. "Sanity, er, sanitation, rules. I didn't make 'em up."
"Waste of good worms," I said with all the indignation I could muster. "That delicate flavor drowned out in your burnt beef patties."
"I did hear rumors of Frank making the meat go farther with plant protein," a man said, "but worms?" He faced the little ones at his table. "Is that the new, ecologically superior source of protein they talk about at school?"
Voices rose in a mingled roar of outrage: "I want my money back," ugly epithets hurled at the proprietor, "Take THAT," and even food was hurled at him. Dun Dee and Jasper took hurried sips of the soda I'd set down. Half-eaten burgers flew through the air; I caught one in my beak. "Just as I thought. I can barely taste the lovely Saturniidae." I didn't choose that name at random; there just happened to be a nice, juicy green worm in a potted plant next to the kangaroo statue. I pointed a wingtip at it. My lucky day. Green, with fleshy warts, and sparse hair on the wart, this tasty little Attacus wardi larva was a gift from the gods. "Looks like one of your best has escaped."
(Photo : courtesy of Jim Tuttle, near Darwin, Northern Territory)
Stretching my long neck, I caught the dear little Attacus wardi in my beak and let it dangle. All eyes were now focused on me--a perfect time to clamp down on my treat and let green juice dribble from my beak.
Three people vomited. A rush of patrons, a realignment of the spears, and our Brotherhood of Emus was no longer the target of hostility. "Quick, get the goods and run," I said. Jaspar, Dun Dee, and Luke gulped all the burgers they could before we rushed out the door.
"Fried emu," Dun Dee said when we were a safe distance away. "Things were looking grim."
"Good call with the caterpillar," Jasper added.
"I don't get it." Luke turned his long neck for a parting glance at the restaurant. "Do worms make people sick?"
"No, only the thought of them does." I shook my head in wonder. "There is no accounting for taste."
Those greasy fries and burgers might taste good, but a fresh, tender, juicy caterpillar or lizard would be better in the long run for the emu brotherhood.
The great emu elder was sure to agree. I would put a bug in his ear, as humans like to say.
Unless I ate it first.
Silly humans.
A disclaimer: Most Aussies do not eat kangaroo -
Kangaroos "are traditionally hard to farm, and animals taken from the wild can have disease (eg. worms) because they share pastures with domestic animals. Most Australian's do not eat witchetty grubs either."
Other things I'd have liked to sneak into the story:
Emus are omnivorous
and eat seeds, flowers, fruit, bark, nuts, stems and tender roots, in addition to insects (especially caterpillars, beetles and grasshoppers), small reptiles, amphibians and other small animals. They even eat animal dung. Sometimes they eat stones and pebbles to assist the digestion of plant material. Captive emus have been known to eat shards of glass, marbles, car keys, jewelry, and nuts and bolts. Hardy and disease resistant, emus can survive with little or no food. This breed has continued for thousands of years in Australia.
Emus drink infrequently in large amounts when they do. They are mostly solitary, but emus often forage for food together.
Emus are not really social birds, except for the young, which remain with their father.
Entomophogy
is a topic I've addressed all too often with all too little reader enthusiasm.
Cricket powder is the easiest way to begin your entomophagy journey since it doesn't look like a bug. It's just a super nutritious, protein-packed, all-natural powder. But, for the best initiation into Entomophagy, try to find a restaurant that serves dishes with Black Ants or Chapulines.