Five Feathery Babysitters

The millennia fell from heaven.

It was a rare occasion indeed that Trianne Fish got a night to herself out on the town, ever the tether of parenthood permanently attached. Her two children, both proper hellions, yokes that they were, set Trianne back something awful as far as time to herself was concerned.

Her loving husband worked straight-up in space, and though he AT&T Video Phoned her regularly, his sweet, pixelated face and slightly robotic sounding voice couldn’t replace his electrifying touch, the vibration of his voice as he kissed her skin giving her instant goosebumps. He was so good with the kids, too.

Babysitters were hard to come by. Ms. Fish had been through every list with a name in front of it, and had even tried dropping the kids off at the local pool for floating lessons, but as soon as Samuel and Samantha (the hellions) entered the pool, it inexplicably drained completely in a moment’s time.

Local physicist Miles DeGrunting was on life guard duty that day, his face prototypically embalmed in viscous, white sunscreen, and was quoted as saying he didn’t think the circumference of the pool’s drain was large enough to allow it to drain as fast as it did. Nobody really cared, so it remains a local mystery to this day. His powerful mind crushed by dissonant information, Dr. DeGrunting shortly went mad.

Trianne was about to throw the towel into the East River when through serendipitous fortune, a newspaper advert happened to float in through her kitchen window, carried on the happy breeze of the May spring day. It landed gently in her extended palm, and she casually brought the seemingly living paper to her face to inspect it.

Kids Hellions? Yokes that set you back something awful? Tried floating lessons but the pool drained? Try Five Feathery Babysitters, we’ll do you right. Call 555-HAIR (4247).

Trianne’s train of thought thought it sounded right up her alley, creek, etc. with a cup of tea on a ladder. She grabbed her lustrous mobile, and without pause dialed FFB.

When the rhythmic, soft ringing ceased and Trianne was connected, it sounded like about 65 people answered the phone all at once. Their voices all melded perfectly together in harmony with a silky, natural timbre.

Bolstered by the awesome answering, Trianne did indeed schedule the Five Feathery Babysitters to come out to her place that very night, fortunately a Friday, so she could hit the town at its towniest time.

Moments later, a fluttering and scratching of wings against Trianne’s lavish, rounded-top door told her that the FFB crew was on the scene. She opened the door, and to her astonishment, five huge, brightly-colored birds with exotic, curled plumes, completely unlike anything she’d ever seen, toppled unceremoniously into the parquet entryway to Trianne’s swanky condo.

Sam and Sam saw the birds and started up their usual babysitter ruckus-rumpus, but the birds just started flopping around and making the most beautiful, ethereal noises. Transfixed, the kids settled down, enraptured by the birds in every way.

“This seems under control,” said Trianne. The birds seemed to understand her, and formed a tower. Upon tower completion, the birds let forth a mournful, golden wail that told Trianne it was a-ok to hit the town now.

As soon as Trianne had shut the door behind her, the kids kicked it up into hellion high gear. It was no problem for the Five Feathery Babysitters. Their motions became blurred and less distinct, a prelude to something unknown. A powerful chord split the silence of the room, turning both children into fuzzy tiger cubs.

The cub-kids rolled and played the night away as the bright birds cooed and flounced about.

When Trianne got home several light years later (which were just regular years in this instance) she was thrilled to find the kids were tiger cubs, peacefully sleeping on the braided rug in front of the spiritedly crackling fire.

Flickerey shadows illuminated the birds in a way that for a moment grounded their supernatural looks more in reality. She thanked the birds profusely, and gave each one of them a monstrous head of broccoli (which was just what they wanted) before wishing them a good night and letting them know she certainly would be calling again.

Trianne wasn’t sure if the kids would remain tiger cubs indefinitely, or if they would eventually transform back into yokes, but for now she really didn’t much care. Thoughts of her night on the town made her smile as she slipped her shirt off, exposing her elegant back to the tender, flattering moonlight’s kiss, before she headed meditatively to bed.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated The Shiny Celery’s story.