Head Nest
The little boy sat on top of his dad’s head. He settled in and made a nest with bundles of brunette. From there the sky seemed much bigger, higher. So naturally, he would start puking on everyone.
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He couldn’t ever stop puking on the top of his father’s skull. He spewed and spewed. Some called it Mississpuki River. Kids tried to be like the little boy — climbing atop their patriarchs’ heads and dry heaving until they blacked out. But no one could emulate the little boy, puking atop his dad’s head. The children’s hospital always had a lot of fainted-from-dry-heaving-cases whenever the dad with the little boy on his head were around.
But whenever the boy was off his father’s head, on his two lanky feet, he would be such a frickin’ brat. He would flap his arms haphazardly and screech like a banshee. Also, he’d peck at people like they were worms or something. Then everyone realized he wasn’t a little boy. He was actually a great horned owl.
And then the dad was banished from hanging around, specifically by the children’s hospital because that’s definitely weird.
