Prose – Two Friends

Two Friends

Their names were Max and Pedro, and they were the best of friends.

Pedro sat on his perch above the living room, talking to Max, saying, “Pedro, Pedro, pretty, pretty Pedro!” He bounced up and down on his skinny legs dancing, waiting for Max to taunt him back.

Max stuck his nose up at his friend, eyeing him with his dark eyes, his bright teeth poking out from pink lips. Max didn’t taunt back, but ran in circles waiting to play.

Pedro started whistling, knowing this was how to get Max’s goat, and get him to be on the ready for a tackle. Pedro’s handsome face bobbed up and down as gibberish poured from his tongue in a musical melody.

Max was on the carpet now, knowing the routine, knowing his friend would soon be upon him and their day would begin like every other day. These two loved each other, more than any buddies I had ever known or shared my home with. They ate together, slept together, and their happiness was inextricably bound with each other.

Suddenly and silently, Pedro was upon him. Max spun around, his eyesight not being very good, but he could smell his opponent and his stubby arms fought to catch hold of his brazen friend. He turned on his back to surrender, all appendages straight up in the air. Pedro had won this round once again.

Pedro stood back to gloat in his victory. He spread his green luminescent wings and preened them in front of Max, without a care of what the large rat might do to him to retaliate. Pedro knew that Max would only wait there for a new opportunity to play.

Max didn’t wait. He scurried up the sofa front, and hid behind one of the two plush throw pillows there. Pedro hadn’t seen him, so Max felt secure that he would best his friend in this next round of one-upmanship.
Pedro slowly finished grooming his gorgeous feathers, and looked up. Max was gone. Pedro bounced to the left and to the right, his head pivoting, looking for him. He flew the short distance to the back of the sofa for a better view of the room. “Pretty biiiiiiird! Pretty, pretty Pedro,” he sang, hoping to call Max to him. Silence. No movement. No Max.

Max had heard, and after half a minute, he poked his white whiskers attached to a quivering nose out from behind the throw pillow.

Pedro barreled down the front of the sofa, but instead of rushing Max, he nosed his way behind the other throw pillow at the other end of the couch. Two could play this game!

A standoff. Silence. Eternity passed.

In unison, they rushed at each other, and wrestled in the midpoint on the sofa. Feathers clicked against the friction of Max’s grasp on Pedro’s wing. Max’s tail whipped when he was under Pedro, trying to right his balance to come out on top. They rolled and rolled on the sofa, true wrestler-style, with equal opponents.

They rolled to the edge of the sofa, one big feather and fur fest. In one motion, Max fell off the sofa and landed on his back on the carpet. At the same time, Pedro took flight from the edge, and landed on the kitchen table.

It was Max’s turn to clean himself off, and he did so with joy, another play day complete. Pedro turned to his water glass, and jumped up, perched upon it and like a mechanical toy, took deep gulps of water to refresh himself.


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