I flew low over the neighborhood. Then a blackbird flew into my mouth and I swallowed it. It was still alive. I could hear it squawking and feel it kicking. I did several somersaults in the air and finally straightened out. I could see the Stewards watching television. They were eating popcorn. The Goodwins were just having dinner. A roast chicken, lovely! Then I hit a power line and started to fall, then gained my balance and flew on. This time of night is most beautiful, the stars just coming out, the moon a pale shadow up there, several stray dogs wandering the streets. That’s my house down there. My wife is starting to set the table, music is playing on the radio. I land in the driveway, dust myself off. I pick a couple of feathers out of my teeth. I walk up to the door and let myself in. “Hi, honey, sorry if I’m late,” I said. “You’re just in time for dinner,” she said. I pulled out my chair and sat myself down. The blackbird squawked. “What was that?” she said. “I didn’t hear anything,” I said. She served us a delicious beef stew. “How was work?” she said. “Oh, work was fine. You know, a little of this and a little of that. It ends up evening about,” I said. “That doesn’t make much sense,” she said. The blackbird was in my throat now. I tried to swallow some stew, but it flew out. “My god, what the hell is that?” she screamed. “I guess that’s a blackbird,” I said. “But it came out of your mouth!” she said. “I’ll catch it and put it back in,” I said, “No, a thing like that doesn’t belong there,” she said. “Well, where else are we going to put it?” I said. “In the aviary,” she said. “We don’t have an aviary,” I said. “Well, we do now,” she said.