Here's one about Bernie:

"Since we'll be want, to we, cure could be want, to be, forever be nigh, her..." Racing through thoughts like grain pouring, words manufactured by fear. "That blast was of, rather be cold..." The body compressing repeatedly, a giant malignant mechanical bird is in the corner: spherical head, conic beak, looking at the ground, dumb steel. Feet of hemispheric shape: flat-sides are soles with a thousand needles each on the wide tiles. Patrons are continuing their night of fun, looking around the room at one another, watching the band who's supporting a long introspective solo by "Dudy" that not many are following actively. Bernie's experience doesn't hear the band anymore, just the bird's strange, disconcerting song, a ringing textured echo. This bird surprised me in the shower of a dream like a palmetto bug roach joining you, your eyes are closed while washing your hair.

Looking at the bird's eyes, it is maliciously avoiding his gaze, staring still at the floor, taking minuscule screeching steps, head bobbing slightly. Complete ignorance. Bernie cups his hand to the bird's beak, and a crack develops in Theresa's rocks glass. She puts it down quickly and says "Damn Bernie, if I knew you were so thirsty, I'd have given you the whole drink." Bernie accepts this offer, and bends his head down to slowly soak up some of the gin and tonic with the tip of his tongue. Warmth and light passing through behind his jaw creating vibrations to his feet through the floor. The hideous bird is gone, shrunken exit through a mouse hole.
posted by Ngawang Zangpo at Thursday, December 18, 2003