Unserious postmodern paintings.

The bird had been served a subpoena the previous Tuesday for allegedly imitating the mayor’s ringtone during a zoning hearing. It denied…

Every morning at 7:59, the barbet flew to the sill and waited. At 8:00, it chirped once—never early, never late. The neighbors…

It had been three days since the invitation arrived — handwritten, on lavender paper, sealed with a wax bee — and still,…

The umbrellabird had been told it was slightly translucent, and so it stood very still, hoping someone would notice. It had waited…

The lemur had been told irony was dead, so it stopped trying to be funny. It now sat where it was told…

The quokka had been told the newspaper was about local zoning disputes, but after twenty minutes of reading, it realized the article…

The sparrowhawk had been invited to tea not for its hunting prowess, but for its impeccable taste in interior drapery. It sat…

The mandrill had been seasonally adjusted last Tuesday, which meant it now reported to work at 9:00 a.m. sharp, regardless of sunlight…

The finfoot had been invited to the opening of its own retrospective, though it had not painted a single brushstroke. It arrived…

The bird had been told, very firmly, that it was not to sing. Not today. Not ever again, really. So it sat.…

The sheep had been promoted to Senior Analyst after a clerical error in HR mistook its bleating for a PowerPoint presentation. It…

The sandgrouse had come to remember the tea. Not the taste, but the silence that followed it—the way the steam used to…