(Saturday morning. The living room of a two bedroom flat on the fourth floor of an apartment building. A MAN and WOMAN sit drinking their coffee and reading the newspaper.)
WOMAN: Oh, for heaven’s sake! What is that ridiculous noise?!
MAN: You’re hearing things again, dear.
WOMAN: You didn’t hear that?
MAN: Oh, what is it this time?
WOMAN: It was just outside the window there.
MAN: Well, what did it sound like?
WOMAN: It was a screech, and then a growl, or a--There! There it is again!
MAN: Oh, that’s just the wind.
WOMAN: The wind? How in heaven’s name could that be--Oh, there it is again!
MAN: I’m telling you, it’s just the wind against the shutters.
WOMAN: Well, I’ve never heard such a racket in all my life! Go out and latch them shut, won’t you?
MAN: I just sat down.
WOMAN: Oh, for heaven’s sake!
(The WOMAN turns and leans her head toward the window, listens, and waits.)
WOMAN: I don’t think the wind’s even blowing.
MAN: Please, dear, I’m trying to read.
WOMAN: I bet it’s some wild bird out there.
MAN: A wild bird?
WOMAN: Yes, a wild bird.
MAN: Dear, please--
WOMAN: What?
MAN: Well, ignore it. It’s just singing.
WOMAN: You call that singing? It’s absolutely dreadful. I can’t hear myself thinking--
MAN: Well, then go out there and see--
WOMAN: I’m not going out there! With all that fuss it’s probably a giant bird. You go check.
MAN: A giant bird?
WOMAN: Yes, a giant bird.
MAN: Like an ostrich?
WOMAN: Yes, like an ostrich!
MAN: Ha! Oh, for heaven’s sake, dear--
WOMAN: That is not the sound of a tame or tiny bird! Why, it’s probably waking up poor Mr. Derrida all the way down on the first floor!
MAN: Oh, don’t get me started on poor Mr. Derrida. Who on earth paints a patio floor blue? It’s absolutely hideous. And when’s he going to be done already? There’s been buckets of blue paint sitting out there for more than six weeks--
WOMAN: Oh, he’s just old. Don’t be such a grump--There it is again! Now, go make that wretched thing stop!
MAN: You mean the giant bird?
WOMAN: Oh, just go see what it is.
MAN: But I don’t care what it is.
WOMAN: Go!
MAN: Fine.
(The MAN stands from his reading chair and walks to the door, turns the knob, opens the door, and leans his head out into the outside hallway. The noise stops.)
WOMAN: Well?
MAN: Oh, my--
WOMAN: What is it?
MAN: It’s…uh…
WOMAN: What?
MAN: It stopped.
WOMAN: Yes, I can hear that. And?
MAN: And what?
WOMAN: Well, what was it?
MAN: A bird.
WOMAN: Ha! I told you! And?
MAN: And what?
WOMAN: And what happened? What’s it doing?
MAN: Nothing.
WOMAN: Did you scare it away?
MAN: No.
WOMAN: It’s still there?
MAN: Well, it’s sort of still there.
WOMAN: Sort of? Is it there or not?
MAN: It’s there.
WOMAN: So you didn’t scare it away?
MAN: Not exactly away-away.
WOMAN: Then what’s it doing?
MAN: Nothing!
WOMAN: Well, why isn’t it singing?
MAN: I must’ve scared it.
WOMAN: But it’s still there?
MAN: Yes!
WOMAN: And what’s it doing now?
MAN: Nothing! It’s…it’s just…blue.
WOMAN: It’s blue?
MAN: Yes.
WOMAN: What do you mean it’s blue?
MAN: I mean it’s blue!
(The WOMAN turns and leans her head toward the window, listens, and waits.)
MAN: What’re you doing?
WOMAN: I’m trying to listen for it.
MAN: Trying to listen for it?
WOMAN: Maybe it’s singing real quietlike.
MAN: It’s definitely not singing.
WOMAN: Well, you said the bird is sad and blue and so maybe he’s singing quietly and nervously with you standing there and…
MAN: What?! I said nothing about its being sad--Wait a second. What?
WOMAN: What?
MAN: What’d you call it?
WOMAN: When?
MAN: Just now.
WOMAN: Blue?
MAN: No, after that?
WOMAN: Nervous?
MAN: No, before that.
WOMAN: A bird?
MAN: Oh, we’ve established what it is! You said--
WOMAN: Sad?
MAN: No, after that!
WOMAN: Quiet?
MAN: Before that!
WOMAN: I said maybe he’s nervous--
MAN: There!
WOMAN: What?
MAN: You called it a he.
WOMAN: I did?
MAN: Yes.
WOMAN: Well?
MAN: Well, why do you think it’s a he?
WOMAN: I don’t know. He was growling and screeching.
MAN: And that makes it a he?
WOMAN: Well, you tell me! Is the big thing a he or a she?
MAN: Why do you think it’s big?
WOMAN: Only a big bird could make such a fuss as--
MAN: Oh, that doesn’t mean it’s big.
WOMAN: It’s small, then?
MAN: I said nothing about its being small or sad but you go on--
WOMAN: Well, is he big or not?
MAN: Oh, for heaven’s sake!
WOMAN: Well?
MAN: …
(The MAN steps into the outside hallway for a moment and then comes back into the doorway.)
MAN: Yes, he’s quite big.
WOMAN: Ha! See! Wait! What did you say?
MAN: When?
WOMAN: Just now.
MAN: I said big.
WOMAN: No, before that?
MAN: I said yes.
WOMAN: No, after that.
MAN: Quite big.
WOMAN: No, before that!
MAN: Oh, for heaven’s sake!
WOMAN: You said he’s big?
MAN: I did?
WOMAN: So it is a he?
MAN: …
(The MAN steps into the outside hallway for a moment and then comes back into the doorway.)
MAN: Yes.
WOMAN: Ha!
MAN: Oh, for heaven’s sake!
WOMAN: And he’s sad?
MAN: No! I said nothing about the bird being sad.
WOMAN: Oh…Oh! He’s the color blue!
MAN: Yes!
WOMAN: Well, how big can a blue jay be?
MAN: Blue jay?
WOMAN: What other blue birds are there?
MAN: Oh, for heaven’s sake! It’s an ostrich!
WOMAN: An ostrich?
MAN: Yes!
WOMAN: A blue ostrich?
MAN: Yes!
WOMAN: That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard! A living, breathing, blue ostrich?!
MAN: No! No! No! Why do you think it’s alive?
WOMAN: What?
MAN: It’s dead!
WOMAN: Dead?!
MAN: Yes!
WOMAN: Well, for heaven’s sake, what’s a big blue dead ostrich doing--
MAN: When I opened the door I scared the damn thing and it fell over the railing and landed on Mr. Derrida’s patio and into a bucket of blue paint and it drowned.
The End.