This has been a summer of blockbuster movie sequels. So, here’s my sequel to “The Bird.” I’m calling it “Bird 2.”
I’m sure readers remember the scarifying original: in which a nighthawk invaded our bedroom. While the bird terrorized my wife, I somehow escaped with my eyeballs and went downstairs to make coffee. The dramatic climax featured a public works employee, armed with only a bath towel, shooing the bird out a window.
Thankfully, my wife survived the original, so she could play the same role in the sequel. It began anew one night when she went upstairs to get ready for bed. She heard a sound that froze her bone marrow. She later described it as (cue the stabbing violins from “Psycho”) fluttering.
Downstairs, she breathlessly described the fluttering and the men of the house sprang into action. Needing weapons, we went to the bathroom and grabbed the largest towels we could find. Locked and loaded, we cautiously approached the bedroom door.
Hollywood sequels usually up the ante with villains that are bigger and badder. But my sequel dials it down from a nighthawk to a sparrow. He lacked the size and wingspan of the nighthawk but he certainly was quick. Prior to the invasion, he was part of a construction crew building a nest under our air conditioner. After he slipped in through a space and saw the size of our “nest,” he obviously had decided to kill all the inhabitants and take over the joint.
We couldn’t let this happen. My two sons and I advanced on the bird with our towels. He dive-bombed us, hoping to knock out our eyesight. Instead of pushing the bird out the window, public works-style, we pointlessly tossed our towels at the bird. Too wimpy to use our weapons properly, we retreated.
Later, I re-opened the bedroom door and saw no sign of the bird. I assured my wife it had flown the coop and we went to sleep. However, like a Hollywood villain, the bird only appeared to be gone. It was about 5 a.m. when I heard-fluttering. The sparrow, fearing more bath towel attacks, was trying to escape through the screened window. I fled downstairs to find my wife already sleeping on the couch. She had heard fluttering hours earlier. Unable to awaken me, she had abandoned me to certain death.
In the gripping climax to “Bird 2,” the hero (that’s me) re-enters the bedroom to throw open the screen. The final scene shows us using a Beagle to make sure the bedroom is bird-free.
As for “Bird 3,” my wife has not yet agreed to appear in it. She’s afraid of becoming typecast. She also insists that we use brooms instead of towels next time. She means the next time she hears (cue the shrieking violins) fluttering.