the boy slept late on purpose, betting correctly that feeling rushed would leave no time for the crippling anticipation which had recently come to dominate his life. hastily he threw on his long-planned outfit: faded chicago bears sweatshirt, navy blue stocking hat and matching gloves. he hustled downstairs into the kitchen, where his dad filled a green thermos with hot cocoa and crammed bologna sandwiches into the front of his coat.
the man drove, his son quiet. eager and optimistic that this would be the year.
they shuffled to their seats. the boy grabbed the binoculars from around his neck and scanned the field below. they weren't too close, but they had a clean view of the action. satisfied, he passed the glasses to his dad and thought about how long he had waited to be here.
__________
but he had no idea it would be so boring. weeks of unchecked hype begat delusions of miracle: hordes of graceful beasts moving in unison, savage and balletic. but the boy's imagination couldn't have prepared him for this reality. sheets of rain. runny nose. the rare flash of excitement leading only to another sustained and eerie silence.
three hours passed like this, their fading enthusiasm no match for the sluggish pace of the wet evening. the boy sat slumped in his seat, his father contemplating the expanding hole in his left glove, when suddenly it happened.
the man shot up with a grunt, rousing his son, and they hastily trained their eyes on the brown missile soaring through the air, down, fading, falling, finally landing gently in the lithe brown limbs stretched delicately out into the quivering air.
"holy shit." the dad said.
his son was standing now, speechless, mouth open. he pulled the binoculars to his face and watched the round brown bird shudder itself dry on the branch below.
the two passed the lenses back and forth, whispering breathlessly about the mighty creature's plume, its talons, its stark yellow eyes.
the boy said "dad. what a superb owl."
the man looked down with a smile. the boy was right.
At first I was reading this and thinking, oh the Blogadier Gen. is trying to be all literary and deep. Then, I realized it was just yet another hilarious post. Awesome ending. Great Superb Owl, indeed!
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