Early Bird

“Up and at ‘em, boy!” Dad called. “Move it!”

I didn’t want to move it. Bed was warm, and soft, and Kenny wasn’t there. Kenny was two blocks down by the bus-stop.

“The early bird gets the worm.” Yuck. In the end, I had to be an early bird. Kenny was waiting. He smiled, or at least showed his teeth.

I was reaching into my pocket for my lunch money when the shadow passed overhead. A deep chirrup was the only warning Kenny had. I saw a flash of colorful plumage, and he was gone.

It was the Early Bird.