Unserious postmodern paintings.

The pitta had been promoted three times last quarter, though it still couldn’t explain what Q3 synergies meant. It sat waiting for…

The robin had been practicing its heroic stance for three weeks, inspired by a stained-glass window in the chapel down the lane.…

The mackerel had been left there by the janitor, who swore he didn’t put it there. No one else remembered bringing it…

The umbrellabird had been promoted to Senior Compliance Officer last Tuesday, though no one remembered interviewing it. It now spent its days…

The monkfish had expected applause. It had rehearsed its silent, gliding entrance for three tides, believing the stillness would be mistaken for…

The courser had been told it was late for the parade, though no one had mentioned a parade existed. It waited in…

The firetail had been violently pleasant all morning — not aggressive, not rude, but insistently cheerful in a way that made the…

The bunting had been up for three years, ever since the department moved in, though no one remembered why it was put…

The woodcreeper had been provisionally heroic for exactly seventeen minutes, a title bestowed by a committee of lichen after it refused to…

The coati had been fluorescent for exactly seventeen minutes when the janitor entered, mop in hand, and paused—not because of the light,…

The pronghorn had practiced politeness for seventeen years, rehearsing bows in front of cracked mirrors made of desert glass. Today, it offered…

The remora had been told it was affordable, so it stayed. It had tried to attach to sharks, but they kept swimming…