Unserious postmodern paintings.

The grasshopper had been waiting for exactly seventeen minutes when the teakettle began to whistle. It did not flinch. It had seen…

The capybara had spent three weeks calculating the ideal angle of structural optimism, concluding that buoyancy was less a matter of mass…

The ibis had been there since Tuesday. No one remembered letting it in, but the glow had grown steadier each night, syncing…

The koala had not left the house in seventeen years, not since the eucalyptus grove outside its window was replaced by a…

The crayfish had been told, by a passing moth with a degree in civil engineering, that optimism was a load-bearing trait. It…

The tuna had been mid-slice when the chef stepped away to answer the phone. It remained suspended, not by magic or will,…

The bird had resisted the upgrade for three weeks, muttering about organic beaks and the sanctity of molting in sunlight. But when…

The whitethroat had intended to arrive at the garden party precisely at ten, but had become distracted by a particularly compelling worm…

The budgerigar did not notice the change until it tried to preen and found its left wing feather resisted smoothing, as if…

The snake had been there since Tuesday. No one had reported it. It didn’t move when Brenda brought the photocopier toner, nor…

The peacock had been late once, in 1897, and the butler had frowned. Since then, it had arrived at precisely 3:00 PM…

The egret had been told, in a dream three nights prior, that perfection resided in the measurement of grout. It arrived at…