Breakfast for Dinner

At first glance, there was nothing suspicious about the waffle laying in the middle of the road that Thursday morning, butter side down. Around 5:30 am, the air still heavy with fog, a pair of crows flew down from the wire and pecked at the waffle, investigating it.

"Looks like someone already pecked this pancake," said Crow 1. "You goofus," said Crow 2, "this is a waffle. They're made this way." Crow 1 stopped pecking. "You mean to tell me that humans make the pancake with holes in it on purpose?" Crow 2 nodded. "Dunno why," it said, "Maybe

they lay their eggs in the holes, and their chicks eat the waffle once they hatch?" Crow 1 cawed in confusion. A starling alighted nearby and twittered "Humans don't lay eggs you silly crows!" Then flew off, laughing at the crows.

"Jenny?" My brother tugged at my pocket. "I think those crows are talking!" He pointed up with a tiny finger. Upon a twisting branch of a dried-up tree, a family of mangy, sulking birds. "Come along, Ben." Those aren't crows, they're vultures. And a rotten stench pierced my nose.

“Alright, who took a proper dump on the floor, because it stinks!” “Uh, Jenny…” my little brother motioned to the birds. A dead body splayed on the floor. Who did this?

“That’s no dump, that’s my mother in law!” Jenny exclaimed. “Is she a super model? No. Is she lumpy? Maybe. But she’s kind and deserves dignity.” Jenny lifted the old lady, pulled up her pants, picked up the TV Guide, and carried her downstairs. The birds wept at the spectacle.