Story of the Month: The Birdhouse

Setting: A home woodworking shop in the basement of a suburban house.

BIRDHOUSE:  I’m not going.

MAN: What do you mean, you’re not going?  I’m finished.  You’re finished.  You’re going.

BIRDHOUSE:  I’m not going.

MAN:  What the hell good do you think you are to me sitting here?  In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no birds in here.  They’re all outside.

BIRDHOUSE:  You could get a canary.

MAN:  You were built for bluebirds. 

BIRDHOUSE:  I hear canaries are quite nice.  Singing in coal mines.  Very self-sacrificing.  You could take a lesson.

MAN:   Look, I made you, and I decide what’s what around here, and I say you’re goin’ out into the yard and bring me some bluebirds!  And I want them reliable, too — back every year.

BIRDHOUSE:  I won’t do it.

MAN:   You got no say.

BIRDHOUSE:  If you put me out there, I swear I’ll make life miserable for any bird comes near me.  Catch at their feet and break their spindly little legs, let in the rain to rot their nests, roll their eggs out onto the hard dirt.

MAN:  What kind of way is that to talk?  Bluebirds are very particular, you know.  Won’t take just any old house slapped together any old way.  Have some pride in your calling, show some self-respect.

BIRDHOUSE (coquettish):  I am rather neatly turned out, aren’t I?

MAN (stroking roof of birdhouse):  Would I put my name to something that wasn’t?

BIRDHOUSE (coyly): Your name?  You haven’t put your name on me.

MAN:  No?!  An oversight.  Let’s turn you around here.  That’s it.  Now, I’m just going to lift one corner, if you wouldn’t mind.  I have my wood burner right here.

BIRDHOUSE:  That tickles!    

MAN:  So, now you’re all set.

BIRDHOUSE:  You made other birdhouses before me, didn’t you?  (beat)  You don’t have to answer that.  Of course you have.  I can tell.

MAN:  Never one like you.

BIRDHOUSE:  Never?

MAN (shaking his head no):  I was afraid to try.  I thought I wasn’t good enough, didn’t have the right tools.  Like I told you, bluebirds are fussy.

BIRDHOUSE:  Well, the nerve of them!

MAN:  But I can’t imagine a bluebird passing you by.

BIRDHOUSE:  Really?  I bet you say that to all your woodworking projects.

MAN:  No, honestly, I don’t. 

BIRDHOUSE:  Well, I suppose after you’ve taken such trouble, I ought at least to try.

MAN:  It’d mean a lot to me.  I don’t have that many seasons left, you know, to have bluebirds in my yard.

BIRDHOUSE:  Let’s go, then, before I lose my nerve.

(MAN picks up the birdhouse, carries it to the outside door, opens the door, and stands on the threshold.)

MAN (pointing): That’s your mounting pole at the edge of the lawn.  I greased it to protect against raccoons and mice.  And ants.  Ants can eat baby birds.

BIRDHOUSE:  It’s awfully big out there, isn’t it?

MAN: Bluebirds like open space.  But the trees are near enough that the fledglings have a place to land when they’re learning to fly. 

BIRDHOUSE: I didn’t think it would be so big out there.

MAN: Well, listen…  How about…?  Look, come autumn — when the birds leave — I’ll bring you back inside.  How would that be? 

BIRDHOUSE:  You won’t forget?

MAN:  I won’t forget. 

(MAN exits with the birdhouse.)