The Bird's Tale

[Continuing from 9-30 through 10-2]

“Persimmon on its breath,” mused Joe Frazier. [“Folkin’ Joe,” the baritone, not “Smokin’ Joe,” the boxer] “That bird could come from only one place. PC, and I don’t mean Politically Correct. Except that now all of Periwinkle County went cruising, and that note from the bottle says they were boarded by Somali pirates and taken into Mogadishu and unloaded onto…”

He scanned the horizon once again. Yes, a second ship with black sails, this one with a skull and crossbones flag.

Suddenly a very large bird behind loomed in front of him. “WTBB!” he exclaimed.

The little brown everyday bird had turned around and was sticking its tail in front of the binoculars. At first Joe thought it must have come from the ship with the black tea party sails and was just mooning him on general principles, but then he saw the post-it note.

He remembered the second thing Molly Ivins had impressed upon her fellow baritones at his commencement from Baritone School [BS]: “Never read a message that comes from a bird’s behind. Only basses do that.”

He looked around for Mike. No bass in sight.

“I’m going to have to lower my voice and my standards and read that thing myself,” he intoned.

Carefully he unrolled it. He recognized the handwriting.

“Running dangerously low on persimmon pudding,” it read. “It’s the only thing that is keeping us alive. The pirates love it, but once it’s gone, we have no hope. Need persimmons to live…”

“So,” murmured Joe, “Claire Nathan is on that pirate ship with the black sails, and she needs persimmons to make more pudding to pacify the pirates into placidity. It’s clear what I must do…”