Unserious postmodern paintings.

The oriole had been reliable for exactly three Tuesdays in a row—delivering jam, not stealing it, just leaving the lid slightly ajar…

The gnatcatcher had expected worms. Not the kind sold in pet stores, but the wild, wriggling sort that darted just beneath the…

The dhole had been told, in a dream it could not remember, that fluorescence was a sign of spiritual alignment. It had…

The sole had been declared provisionally heroic by the town’s committee of aquatic ethics after rescuing a spoon from the sink drain—a…

The leopard had been offering advice for three days straight — not because it was asked, but because it could. It told…

The curassow had been loved once — not for its beauty, but for its quiet insistence on being present. It had sat…

The kudu had moved in during the great sock uprising of '09, when the household textiles declared independence and fled to the…

The louse had not moved in three days. It had crawled here from the mattress above, seeking refuge from the heat and…

The oxpecker had been promoted yesterday. No one told it what the job entailed, only that it was now ‘synergy-aligned’ and expected…

The wryneck had been waiting for the postman since Tuesday. It had read the label on the box marked 'Urgent: Do Not…

The stingray had been invited to tea by mistake — the host, a retired librarian with poor eyesight, had mistaken the brochure…

The xenops had been retconned yesterday—its species, its diet, its very reason for existing rewritten in the margins of a forgotten ornithology…