Unserious postmodern paintings.

The termite had not eaten wood in seventeen days. Instead, it refreshed the same forum thread every forty-two seconds, waiting for a…

It had been three days since the last experiment. The woodlouse, designated Subject 7-Gamma, had stopped responding to stimuli. Not dead, not…

The galah had stopped trying to be funny years ago. It still wore the colours of irony like a second skin, but…

The tanager had expected worms. Not the kind that wriggled in damp soil after rain, but the kind that came with applause…

The wrasse had spent three days convincing itself that structural optimism was not a delusion but a load-bearing trait. It had read…

The canary had been told, by a very serious mole who wore spectacles and carried a clipboard, that heroism required stillness. Not…

The wasp had been waiting for the toast to cool. It didn’t sting — it never did — but it did absorb…

The bateleur had been promised silence. Instead, the radiator clicked three times in quick succession, then stopped. It did not move. It…

The wolf had been invited to the Countess’s soirée under the mistaken impression that ‘formal attire’ meant ‘wear everything you own.’ He…

The nutria had been promised a promotion if it could adjust to seasonal shifts without complaint. It learned to stand still, to…

The ferret had been told the ventilation was ‘under review.’ It believed this. For three days, it stood in the same spot,…

The mole had spent three weeks preparing for this visit, rehearsing greetings in the mirror of a thimble, pressing its vest with…