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David DiGioia

Mrs. Chatham

Language Arts, P-5

September 11, 2014

The Very Pink Flamingo

At last, evening had arrived. Ambient forest noises began to grow quieter, and the soft chirp of

crickets could now be heard. This was the time of day that a young, radiant flamingo liked to

bathe in a small forest pond. The bird was a brilliant pink, and stood out from the rest of the

forest, not only because of his glimmering coat, but also due to his gentlemanly behavior. After

arriving, he simply stood still with perfect balance by the support of a single leg. The flamingo

meditated on everything that had happened that day, while slowly drifting away from reality into

a pink void of flamingo-esque thoughts. Suddenly, the flamingo was brought back to reality

when he heard a stir in the water. He dismissed it as being nothing, and continued in his

meditation. Several moments later, he heard it again, but this time it was closer. Being a cool-

headed bird, he did not panic, but rather approached the source of the disturbance. “Good

evening!” called the pink bird to the quiet, darkening surroundings. No one answered. He took a

step closer. “I was just enjoying the fine evening, I presume you are too?” Still, nobody

answered. It was then that the flamingo began to feel uneasy. There was obviously somebody

around who wished to remain invisible, and this made the flamingo suspect that his company

might have malicious intentions. “On second thought, I will just be going, seeing that you wish

to be alone,” said the flamingo in a quivering voice. He blindly took a step back with eyes fixed

on the water in hopes of escaping, but it was too late. At that moment, a massive, smiling

crocodile emerged from the pond. Its dark colored scales blended perfectly with the mucky

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surroundings. Its eyes testified of its ravenous craving of pink plumage, but its lips were quick to

disagree. “Why, hello little bird, I didn’t mean to scare you” the crocodile said, “Oh, I’m quite

sure you didn’t, but I really must be going now,” retorted the flamingo as he took another step

back. “Please don’t go, we’ve only just met. I’ve never seen a pink bird before.” said the

approaching reptile as he licked his lips. The flamingo had had enough of pretending to believe

the reptile, and boldly proclaimed, “You have made it fairly obvious that you intend to consume

me, so please stop acting like you don’t!” A moment of silence passed, and then the crocodile

said, “Yes, I am going to eat you. I have had enough savory food in my days, and frankly, I’m

sick of it! I want something sweet for once in my life.” The expression of fear on the bird’s face

seemed to be replaced by perplexity. “I don’t suppose you think that I taste sweet. I may be pink,

but rest assured that I taste like any other animal you have eaten.” The crocodile refused to

accept the bird’s claim and confidently stated, “Listen, I’m sure that you would prefer not to be

ripped to pieces as much as the next guy, but you can’t honestly think that you can persuade me

into letting you go. You look like a strawberry! That is nature’s way of labeling you as a fruity

dessert. A baker can say whatever he wants about his strawberry soufflé, but that will in no way

change the contents of that delicious delicacy.” The waterfowl was beginning to lose hope of

getting this simple idea into the hardheaded reptile’s shallow mind. In a final attempt of eluding

an inevitable ending, the flamingo lowered his head and said in a soft voice, “Suppose that you

do eat me. You would swallow your pride along with my savory corpse as you realize that an

innocent life was ended only to prove that nature doesn’t have the recipe for strawberry

soufflés.” This sentimental cry was quickly buried by the unwavering confidence of a scaly idiot.

As his jaws snapped closed on the bloodstained plumage of a dying masterpiece, the crocodile

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could not bring himself to admit that he was wrong. One thing did, however, find its way into the

crocodile’s unaccepting mind. Appearances can be deceptive.