Unserious postmodern paintings.

The dollarbird had been waiting for exactly seventeen minutes when the ice cream fell. It did not flinch. It did not blink.…

The lyrebird had spent three years collecting the utensils, one by one, from the kitchen drawers of the house it had quietly…

The crab had retired from the tide pools three years ago, after a particularly embarrassing incident involving a seagull and a misplaced…

The tiger had stopped being ironic years ago, though no one noticed until it began wearing clothes and refusing to roar at…

The cobra had been there for three days. No one had asked it to leave. It did not hiss, nor strike, nor…

The mole had spent three years convincing the court it was not a rodent, a classification that would have barred it from…

The midge had been told, by a retired entomologist who no longer believed in insects, that its existence was astronomically mundane —…

The kea had been famous for exactly seventeen minutes after a viral video showed it unscrewing a jar of marmite with its…

The sunbittern had been told, by a very serious parrot who read Vogue, that elegance required stillness and a certain tension in…

The kittiwake had been declared provisionally heroic by the Harbor Council after refusing to steal a fisherman’s sandwich—a transgression so rare it…

The leafbird had decided, after three days of earnest observation, that mediocrity was not a failure but a discipline. It did not…

Sir Reginald Thistlewaite, third of his line, had insisted on attending the vicar’s garden party in full evening dress despite the heat…