Teach a man to fish
Just a snuff piece for a friend of mine :)
Teach a man to fish...
Adam was feeling rather chipper on this particular morning. A light drizzle settled over the ever dour Hawkston, making a concerted effort at seeping through the weaker patches in his flannel shirt, dampening the blue feathers underneath. ("Scarecrow", the kids called him, much to his exasperation. The shirt was cool, damn it. COOL!) Though the gloom did little to curb his bright mood, it seemed to have an effect on those few half-feral reptiles he saw milling about on the wet, slimy streets.
Adam always felt particularly out of place - well, moreso than he usually did - whenever it was cold out while on duty. The cold-blooded nature of those he worked with made them highly susceptible to the chill. He walked past a man wrapped head-to-toe in all manner of warm woollens, scarves, jumpers, beanies and all, and felt a twinge of guilt for his own shirt and jeans. Even rugged up as they were, and as eager as they seemed to be to escape the relentless icy assault, they still moved as snails compared to their warm-blooded brethren.
The bird shook his head, took a deep breath, and carried on. He had to steel his resolve to not immediately start fussing about and helping those in need. 'Your smile is a joke,' they said 'It's obviously fake. You just want to feel better about yourself.' It hurt, perhaps because there was some kernel of truth in it, but the man couldn't help himself at times. It was a constant struggle between, as it seemed to him, appearing heartless and being insufferable. Today, duty won out.
The awkwardly leaning door to the Half-Feral Relations building was somehow even harder to open than yesterday. "I'll have to get Cheryl to get that fixed. It leaves a bad impression..." He made a mental note, pinning it up along the long list of notes that all read similarly. Speaking of the devil - a Tazzy Devil in fact -, Cheryl's two wiggly ears popped up over the lip of the front desk. "H-Hello Mister Fenix! The delivery just came in then, I think the guy's still unloading it out back!" With chin in hand, and his elbow on the desk, Adam leaned over to look at the girl. "Have you gotten taller, Cheryl?" Her only response was an annoyed grimace and a rude display of tongue. The bird just laughed and continued down the hall. "I'll do two runs today Cher, tell Harry he can take a break. That guy works too hard."
***
Taking a left at the end of the hall, poor Adam found himself staring face to face with a hulking bull of a... bull. It took him a few seconds to tear his eyes away from the other man's face, alerting him to the fact he must have been the delivery man, what with his blue overalls and all. The bull, 'Darren' judging by the name-tag, snorted directly into his face before backing off. "Ah, hey Darren. Just here for an early trip! I-" "You're an embarrassment." He didn't face Adam as he spoke, instead busying himself with moving the delivered palettes of eggs into more manageable positions. "Why waste effort and time on these pre-historic retards? You're pathetic." Adam blinked, shocked and completely incapable of forming any kind of coherent come-back. By the time he was able to say something, the brute had left.
"You're wrong!" he said, to no one in particular. The bird shook his head and pressed on, clearing his mind of all the terrible thoughts and doubts that people like him were always plagued with. It was nothing new; it didn't affect him as much as it used to, but it still stung to hear your life's passion was not only a joke, but harmful to society. All he could do was keep his chin up and carry on. After picking up the palette, and throwing the straps around his shoulders, Adam set off. He made sure to give Cheryl a very loud, and very cheerful "Goodbye!" before he left.
***
By the time Adam had made it to the... more disadvantaged areas of Hawkston the rain had strengthened significantly, making him appreciate the tarp he'd taken with him. A lesser man may have turned back, but getting a little wet was nothing against the smiles he'd hope to bring. He started off as he always did; at Shaelyn's.
As was usually the case, a gaggle of excited children burst from the front door, accompanied by the exasperated yelling of their carer. "Aaaadaahm!" "Fluffy!" "Scarecrow!" Though eager to latch on to him, they very obviously stayed back until he was fully clear of the rain. "Ahh, and here I was hoping you munchkins wouldn't be here today! Just my luck, isn't it? Well quickly then, inside, before you give poor Shae an aneurysm." "What's an anure... uhh... anyuthythm?" "Uhh..."
Saved by the bell, as usual, it seemed. Shae shuffled out to meet him, batting her scaly 'children' inside as she went. "Here today? With tho much water? You're a fiend, Adam; a fiend. You don't belong in this world." He grinned as much as a having a beak would let him as Mama Shae wrapped her arms around him. "It's nice to see you too, Shae. I can't stay long, sorry. I'm afraid that if the rain won't let up then some of those others might get a bit... lazy. I'll be doing double duty today!"
Though he did stay for a little chat - just saying "goodbye" to Shae was almost impossible -, the bird excused himself early after everyone had taken their share of goose eggs. The half-feral matron seemed a touch withdrawn today however, and the tension evident upon her scaled face culminated in a rushed plea as he turned to leave. "Don't go today. Thingth have been getting worthe around here, people gettin' angrier and angrier. We can go hungry another day Adam, it ain't no big deal. Thtay here." He paused, shook his head, bowed, and left.
***
House after house he chewed through like it was nothing. Most were thankful, some took his offering with anger and shame at their own helplessness, and yet others still accepted the food without a display of emotion. Those hurt the most, he thought, the poor souls who were so resigned to their lives that such an offering was accepted as an inevitability. It was that or death, and by the dimness of their eyes it was obvious either option was acceptable. He clenched his fist. Whether it took a month, a year, or a decade, he'd change this place. They don't deserve this; no one does.
Soaked to the bone and shivering as he was, Adam confused the sudden chill that shot down his spine as merely a product of the rain. Perhaps on another day, in another life, he might have felt it for what it was and left immediately. He turned the corner and was startled to see a group of older teenage boys sitting on the steps of their shack's front porch, dangling their feet in the rain. He frowned, knowing how difficult it must be to experience such a terrible chill against their bare feet. He wanted to say something, but didn't know how to get it across without insulting them. So instead, the bird simply sidled over and offered some eggs.
Each of them grabbed one, then hissed at him when he wouldn't let them take another. Though they tried to snatch, he was fast enough to only lose one or two. "Come on guys, you know I don't have enough for that. Think of-" "You don't give a thit about uth, we know. Ain't pretty enough thith thide of town, we ain't thluts like Thae. Need cow titth or elthe there jutht ain't enough food, right? Rack off, feral-fucker." He turned to restrain the agitated boy at his side as he spoke, keeping him from standing up right then and there.
Adam didn't know what to say. It was true, he gave the biggest portion of the eggs to Shae, though he thought it fair enough since she was running the orphanage by herself. What he did know, though, was that there was no point in arguing with them. He didn't want to make things any worse, so he turned and left. Or would have, were he not confronted by another, younger half-feral boy. He mustn't have been any older than eight or nine, which meant the cold could really be dangerous if he spent too much time in it. "Hey! What are you doi-" The kid shuffled off into a nearby alley, checking behind him to make sure Adam was following. Like a lamb to slaughter he went, turning the corner to find the kid sitting as far under the tiny shelter of roof as he could. He was hugging his knees and crying, tail curled around his ankles.
"I'm thorry Mithter. They made me!" "Hey bud, what do you mean? What's the mat-" The first knife slit through the very edge of his throat, enough to make him cough at the sudden wave of blood, yet not enough to end his life. He clutched at his wounded throat, blood spurting out between his fingers, too shocked to properly process the situation. It was only the second or third stab, the former sliding into his kidney and ripping a vicious hole up his back, the next scraping along his spinal vertebrae, that brought him to his knees. His torso was rocked by a terrible spasm, a shake that briefly interrupted the awful wheezing sounds from the hole in his throat, before he collapsed forward onto the palette of eggs, crushing a dozen beneath his weight.
Another knife-wound shocked his upper arm before he was violently rolled over off the bread to face the sky. A hole was ripped open in the bird's chest two, three, four times, by the effort's of all three of them, though he couldn't see the horror for the scaled foot that slammed into his face, fracturing his lower beak into a cracked mess. "Go play favouriteth in hell cunt. We ain't thtarvin' no more." The boy spat in his face before turning to salvage what food he could with the rest of them. One of the particularly violent gang members was still hacking away at what he presumed to be his thighs or groin, splattering the scrambling kids in chunks of wet gore, though he could no longer feel it.
Finally bored, the half-feral hooligan casually tossed his murder weapon at Adam's face, where its tip lodged itself in the jelly of his left eye. He turned to leave, stepping on the bird's chest and stomach as he went, bare foot sinking into a slimy sea of viscera, leaving a pitter-patter of bloody footprints behind.
Adam tried to blink, which only further sliced up his mangled eyelid. When he opened one of his right eye again, finally, no one was there. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, and the worst of it was he couldn't feel a thing. Staring at the sky, he was left to his thoughts. He wanted to ask how, but as his brain failed he quickly found following such a train of thought impossible. Instead, he pondered why. He'd done his best, ever since he was a teenager, to make the lives of others better. He'd worked hard, real hard, and made so many people happy. So why? The bird tried to cough, but at this point it was impossible, so he resigned himself to drowning in his own blood. The rain washed over him, yet the chill that eked into his bones was beyond any of its efforts. The rain washed over him, mixing with his lifeblood to swallow him up in a pool of crimson. The rain washed over him, and all he could do was ask: why?