Jeremiah had decided to not audition.
“Oh, c’mon, Jerry. Why not? I bet that you would be great at that owl part. I would be so proud of you, and your girlfriend and your mom would be too,” Gully protested as they satin Jeremiah’s owl hole drinking tea.
“Owls in musicals are silly. There’s no time for me to be in one,” Jeremiah grumbled.
“Who told you that?” Gully demanded.
There was a pause.
“The co-director,” Jeremiah muttered in a tiny voice.
“What?” Gully squawked.
Jeremiah averted his yellow eyes pointedly. Gully marched angrily out of the hole.
“Wait!!! Where are you going?” Jeremiah yelled after Gully.
“The co-director’s house.”
Jeremiah shook his head so hard his feathers flew around the owl hole. “W-wait, don’t you want to finish your tea?”
Gully had already gone in a flash of gray and white feathers.
Jeremiah flew after him frantically, knocking over both cups of tea. He caught a glimpse of his bird friend flying over to the co-director’s nest.
“Uh, hi, director. To what do I owe to the pleasure?” The co-director, a light brown sparrow, asked. His name was Sparsmethius.
“You are dismissed,” Gully said firmly.
“Wh-what? I do not understand.”
“You told Jeremiah that-mmfff!”
Jeremiah flapped his wings over Gully’s bill.
“Um–” The co-director looked at Jeremiah for an explanation.
“Uh, sorry,” Jeremiah said awkwardly.
“Hey, Jerry, let go! I need to tell him that you are a great owl!”
“No! Come! You need to drink your tea!” Jeremiah wrapped his wings around Gully’s, which was hard because Gully was a large seagull.
Gully and Jeremiah landed back in Jeremiah’s hole.
“You would be great at that owl part. Really. The co-director is wrong. I mean it. I am the director and I am telling you that you are talented,” Gully said seriously, plucking feathers from his bill.
“No.” Jeremiah shook his head stubbornly. “Sparsmethius had a good point. What type of a bird musical needs a clumsy owl in it?”
“This one, Jeremiah. You are talented.”
Jeremiah shook his head again and pressed a new teacup into Gully’s wing. His yellow eyes filled with tears. “You can go. Don’t worry about me. It’s not like I’m actually good at singing,” he said dejectedly.
“But Jerry . . . “
Jeremiah sat on the couch with a humph.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow at the set, right?”
No reply.
It was the next day. Sparsmethius had been dismissed. There would be no co-director, which made things extra hard for Gully.
“Hey – where’s Jeremiah?” A swan asked as she scanned the stage.
“The bathroom?” A parakeet suggested.
“No, don’t all birds just . . . go in the air?” A pigeon asked.
“Not in the set!” A hummingbird exclaimed.
Within a second, Gully had flown away.
“Jerry?”
“Mmmm! I’m sleeping! Go away,” Jeremiah protested.
“You are not sleeping.”
“I am.”
“Then how come you’re talking?”
There was a pause.
“Hey, you’re supposed to knock before coming in.” Jeremiah reprimanded.
Gully ignored this. “You gotta come. You didn’t seriously believe Sparsemethius, did you?”
Cough-cough-cough.
“Huh? You okay?” Gully asked, concerned.
“Um. I think I’m sick,” Jeremiah mumbled.
“No. You’re not. You are totally not. Stop faking Jerry, we need you!” Gully said firmly.
“No, actually-sneeze!-I am!” Jeremiah cried.
Gully thrust the thermometer into Jeremiah’s beak. “Oh no – indeed, you are sick! No, no, no. You can’t be! Today’s rehearsal!” Gully yelled, pacing around the hole as if the faster he walked, the faster the fever would be reversed.
“Tell Sparsemethius that he can take the part,” Jeremiah sighed, even though he did not actually want the judgy sparrow to take the part.
“No,” Gully shook his head. “He already migrated to Zimbabwe. I wouldn’t even want him to take the part anyway.”
Gully pressed on the receiver that was lying on the tea-table. “Hello, this is Gully Sea, the director of High School Musical, Bird Edition. Our actor has a fever so… Wait, what? You can’t come? No, no… you are in Africa? What?… You have to!” Gully screamed into the receiver.
There was a click on the other line.
“The understudy is also in Zimbabwe! He can’t come!” Gully shrieked. He was panicking. “Please, Jerry, please. Please! You have to come!” Gully pulled Jeremiah out of the bed of grass.
“Nooooo… Jeremiah whined.
Somehow, Gully managed to deliver Jeremiah to the set. All the actors cheered when they saw the snowy owl, but only before they saw his unhappy face, with his wings hanging limply at his sides.
“Are you okay?” A pheasant felt Jeremiah’s forehead. It was hot.
“He has a fever, but he came anyway.” Gully puffed out his chest proudly, not adding in the detail that he had lugged the pessimistic owl to the set completely against Jeremiah’s will.
Another cheer went over the actors as they resumed rehearsal.
Jeremiah choked out the songs, coughs in every beat. Every time he sneezed, all of the singers glanced at him, so he just mouthed the words. Gully could not tell and clapped his wings.
“You are really improving, Jerry!” Gully exclaimed in happy shock.
Jerry did not tell his best friend that he was not actually singing. He did not want Gully to convince him into singing, messing up the whole play as result. He shaped his beak into the memorable songs, flapping his wings. Once in a while he would cough. Then there was a terrible thought. What would he do at his solo?
“Um, can I go to the bathroom?” Jeremiah asked, hoping that the rehearsal would skip over his solo. His plan backfired.
“Okay! We’ll pause for you,” Gully said, skimming through scripts. Jeremiah tried to think of another reason to skip his solo. When he got out of the bathroom, he pretended to faint.
“Oh no!” Gully cried. “We will try to continue rehearsal tomorrow.”
Jeremiah stifled a groan.
The next day, Jeremiah’s fever was no better. He came to rehearsal anyway, though, and coughed through his solo.
“Oh dear, you were doing so good yesterday!” A red-winged blackbird cried.
“Again. Sing it again,” Gully commanded. A woodpecker slowly backed away, not wanting the sneeze to land on him. All of the other birds were too afraid to do this seemingly rude act, because Gully was in a particularly bad mood.
“No. I can’t sing it again!” Jeremiah begged.
Gully sighed and gave in, moving onto a bald eagle.
“This whole thing is stupid.” Jeremiah exploded. “Birds don’t even go to high school! The human version looked much better.”
“Oh, Jerry. We are trying, and we really want you to get better.” Gully sighed.
Jeremiah launched himself out of his set, flew to his hole and curled there, on his bed, crying angrily.
The next day there was no Gully to urge him out of bed, no encouragement or kind words. The owl overslept, grabbed a cup of weak tea, and looked out of his hole. For once he longed for his best friend to yank him out of the warm hole.
Without thinking about the embarrassment and the “I told you so’s,” he snatched up the receiver. Again and again he dialed with no avail. Gully was angry at him, he must’ve been! Jeremiah burst out of his hole and careened to Gully’s nest, the one near the lake. There was a telescope and a fishing net, but no Gully on the balcony. Jeremiah waited with a cup of tea. No Gully.
How stupid I am, Jeremiah thought. Gully must be at the set, directing!
Jeremiah took off and soared to the set. No Gully! Leaving the anxious bird actors, Jeremiah flew to his hole. Where was Gully! Had he migrated? Or was he wounded and at the hospital?
Oh. There was the seagull, holding a cup of tea.
“Where were you!?” The two birds squawked at the same time.
“You are going to the set.” Gully pulled at Jeremiah. For once he agreed.
“We are selling so many tickets!” A crow announced happily, throwing birdseed in the air. Birdseed was the bird currency.
Jeremiah shook his head. What if he was not recovered by the time of the performance?
“Your understudy has come back,” Gully reassured Jeremiah, “but I bet you’ll be well by then. The understudy will not have to move a feather.” Jeremiah felt like the last comment was a lie. He knew that Gully only wanted to make things better, but he was slightly annoyed that his friend had been faking.
And what about the audience of the musical? He would not get to perform in front of them. Jeremiah found undeserved hate for his understudy in himself. He felt as if he had lost a game of pool. The balls did not roll into the right place at the right time.
“Who is the understudy?” Jeremiah suddenly found suspicion.
“A sparrow. He had migrated to Zimbabwe, but then came back,” Gully explained.
“Have you ever seen him?” Jeremiah pressed.
“No. I can ask him to come,” Gully said, suddenly feeling rather suspicious himself. Zimbabwe? Who else had been migrating to Zimbabwe?
“Sparsmethius!” Jeremiah yelled.
“Oh no. No. It has to be a coincidence,” Gully muttered, pacing back and forth. Now that he thought of it, the voice on the other end of the receiver had been familiar!
“No, I am sure. It’s Sparsmethius, getting revenge!” Jeremiah exclaimed, taking out his lunch box and swallowing a mouse.
Gully shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why would he apply for understudy? That means he is helping you!”
Jeremiah nodded. “He wants to seem like that, so you can make him co-director again! Or he just wants to take my part. Oh, Gully, I know! He wants to pretend he is the understudy, but he will not actually go if I am still sick. He will let the play down!” Jeremiah yelled. All the pieces were fitting together.
“It doesn’t matter.” Gully sighed, pulling out a file of scripts from under his director’s chair. “You just need to not be sick and do your part.”
Jeremiah felt angry. The insulting previous co-director was coming back! And Gully did not even care!
Gully was already too overwhelmed to care about a supervillain understudy. The costumes didn’t fit! The scripts didn’t match! He absentmindedly clapped the clapboard. He took a sip of coffee out of his thermos and ate a fish taco. The stage was a few inches too low, the curtain was a foot too high! A supervillain? Pooh. Who cares?
So Jeremiah practiced his part and made it better, but his cough was still bad.
“Hachoo! Hachoo!” Loud sneezes escaped Jeremiah’s beak. He was curled on his bed. Scripts were spewed on the floor. The thermometer had unusually high temperatures on the screen, tissues were balled up around the bed. Tea was over-brewing in the kettle, but Jeremiah was too frustrated and sick to go up and get it. He longed for someone to talk to and get his tea for him, so he called Gully. Gully came over and got his tea for him.
“You’re running late for rehearsal. We need the owl. The talented owl. The owl who you play, Jeremiah,” Gully said solemnly.
“Golly, Gully. Maybe tomorrow,” Jeremiah whispered hoarsely.
“Why not today?” Gully asked.
Jeremiah glanced over the wads of tissues on his bed. Gully swept them up into the wastebasket, sympathy for his friend.
“Thanks,” Jeremiah whispered. Gully handed him a cup of tea. Jeremiah took it and screwed his eyes shut. It was way over brewed and very bitter.
“Hey. I can bring the tea for you if you come,” Gully tried to help. He only succeeded in doing the opposite.
Jeremiah choked over the gross liquid. “No thanks,” He mumbled.
Gully put the thermometer on the tea-table next to the picture of Jeremiah’s elf owl girlfriend and piled up the scripts that had been under the teacup Jeremiah had thrown. Jeremiah nodded over the tea cup. “You can have the rest,” He coughed.
“It can’t be that bad.” Gully sipped the tea and promptly spit it across the room. Jeremiah pushed the mop towards Gully.
Gully looked out of the hole.
“Jerry! Look, snow! It never snowed in space!” Gully exclaimed.
“Hmm? What’s snow?” Jeremiah asked drowsily.
“Snow!” Gully squawked. “Jerry, you have to see this! I’ve only heard about it.”
Jeremiah glanced outside.
“Wow, Gulls. What is that?” Jeremiah asked.
“Snow!” Gully repeated.
Jeremiah’s energy was replenished with the pretty white powder.
“Could you please come to the set for this rehearsal? You are coughing much less.” Gully pleaded.
“Fine.” Jeremiah was secretly relieved as they flew over to the set.
The birds cheered and threw up their scripts. “Go Jeremiah! Yippee!” A group of cardinals and blue jays chirped.
“Thanks.” Jeremiah tipped the microphone towards him and went through his solo. He had indeed improved.
The bird clapped their wings, clearly impressed. Jeremiah smiled. Some other birds flocked onto the stage.
“I think I will be better by the time of the musical!” Jeremiah told Gully.
“Uh, good.” Gully fiddled with his feathers. “Um, can I tell you something?”
“Sure,” Jeremiah said.
“Uh, the musical, Jerry, it got… well, moved,” Gully whispered.
“To when?” Jeremiah was suddenly alarmed.
“Well, to… tomorrow.” Gully looked away.
“WHAT!?” Jeremiah screeched. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No,” Gully whispered. “I’m sorry, Jeremiah.”
“How? Why?” Jeremiah shook Gully’s wings, his yellow eyes widened.
“Th-the day we requested was reserved for the human high school musical,” Gully said, fidgeting with his feathers.
“Why? They think humans are more important than birds? Huh?” Jeremiah demanded.
“They kind of are. Humans invented the lightbulb. That’s what the theater manager said. Besides, humans don’t like birdseed,” Gully told Jeremiah.
“That’s not true. Dicey Hopskins invented the lightbulb. Did the theater manager even go to college?” Jeremiah inquired angrily.
“Uh, you know birds don’t go to college, either,” Gully whispered.
Jeremiah shook his head, feathers flying on Gully. “You’re lying. You’re joking. No, that’s not possible. I-I’m not ready!” Jeremiah screamed. Many birds looked at him.
“We are ready,” Gully assured him. “The costumes aren’t.”
“Why don’t we just buy costumes?” An exhausted red-breasted robin with pins in her beak asked.
“That’s human stuff. Humans buy everything. Besides, we won’t be allowed in department stores.” Gully responded, shaking his head.
The robin groaned. Jeremiah understood how she felt.
Gully took out a smoked-salmon sandwich and handed Jeremiah a packet of dried mice. “A thank-you present, for doing the musical even though you are sick. Those sunflower seed snack packets here are too small for your huge talent.”
Gully took a bite of smoked-salmon. Jeremiah wolfed down a mouse. He coughed up a pellet and tossed it into the wastebasket. A blue jay nibbling on sunflower seeds looked insulted.
“It will all be for nothing. What if I forget my lines? What will I do?” Jeremiah moaned in distress, stuffing mice in his mouth.
“You can do it, Jerry!” Gully cried.
“I… am speaking to the manager,” Jeremiah announced.
“Okay,” Gully said distractedly, helping sort the costumes.
Jeremiah thought that Gully should have begged him to not go, to stay and to face his fears. A little part of Jeremiah thought that Gully was not spending enough attention on him. But he left reluctantly to speak with the manager because he said he would. He was afraid, though.
“Hey mister!” Jeremiah called up to the manager.
“Well, hello. What do we have here?” The manager chuckled.
“I have come to ask: why did you switch the performing time?” Jeremiah demanded. He tried to sound intimidating, but that is hard for any bird, even snowy owls. “Besides, humans didn’t invent the lightbulb. A MOUCE did!” Jeremiah yelled.
“Uh, sorry Owl, sir. High school musical is paying more than you bird guys. Besides, many people, even one bird, like the human version better,” The manager told Jeremiah.
The owl felt embarrassed and stepped out of the manager’s office.
“Well?” Gully greeted Jeremiah.
Jeremiah did not reply and therefore was even more embarrassed. He decided to talk to the cast of Human High School Musical.
“Hey,” Zac Efron greeted Jeremiah.
“Hey,” Jeremiah greeted back.
“So, um… why are you here?” Zac asked gently.
“I want to ask: why did you take our time spot in the theater?”
“Uh, we needed more time.” Zac looked away and waved his arms, squiggled his fingers at the rest of the cast. Jeremiah was filled with envy. Why couldn’t his feathers do that? Then he glanced at the rest of the cast. They looked ten times readier than the bird cast!
“It’s not fair.” Jeremiah told Zac Efron calmly.
“I-I’m sorry? Why is it not fair?” The confused actor asked.
“Because we are not ready but we have to perform tomorrow!” Jeremiah screamed, annoyed. Zac looked taken aback and perhaps a bit amused.
“I’m sorry, but we, er, have lots of tickets. We have so much pressure,” Zac told Jeremiah.
“How much pressure do you have, huh? How many tickets?” Jeremiah demanded, determined to prove the human wrong.
“Uh, so, we have, like, two thousand tickets,” Another actress said.
“TWO THOUSAND?!” Jeremiah squawked.
Zac smiled awkwardly and ushered Jeremiah out of the set room.
“They have two thousand tickets,” Jeremiah coolly informed Gully.
“What? Who has two thousand tickets?” Gully looked up from his clipboard.
“Human High School Musical.” Jeremiah stayed calm. Gully jumped out of his feathers and looked as if his fish had come down wrong.
“Two thousand!” Gully confirmed with Jeremiah loudly. “Two thousand tickets!”
“Yes,” Jeremiah said. He knew he could never sell that many tickets.
Gully shook his head in amazement and took out some mahi-mahi jerky. Jeremiah smiled, triumphant that he managed to surprise his friend, but perhaps a bit sullen that Gully had paid more attention to some tickets than him. He chewed on a dried mouse. Then he watched a duet sung by a pelican and an ostrich. A Kakapo banged his wings on a piano. A raven slammed her talons on a drum set.
“The costumes are finished!” The red-breasted robin and a mourning dove cried happily. Many birds whooped as they changed into their costumes. Fluffy, red, off-the-wing gowns, baggy talon jeans, rhinestone belts, winglets and talon sneakers. Jeremiah looked around in a miniature baseball cap.
Then they did the rehearsal and Jeremiah flew home, grabbing some mice on the way and brewing more tea. He was still coughing, but less. Slowly, he was recovering!
Jeremiah took a fly around the forest for exercise. He did this because he always felt refreshed when he got back; the cool, dewy leaves were calming. He spotted Sparsmethius, playing poker and drinking beer with his friends. Jeremiah peeked over with hate. He knew, he just knew, that Sparsmethius was the understudy! Jeremiah suddenly had the urge to go to the bathroom. But he wanted to continue to spy! So he decided to poop on Sparsemethius for revenge. Unfortunately, Sparsmaethius saw him. Jeremiah flew back to his hole. In the middle of the night, he snuck back to Sparsmethius’s nest. There was a deck of cards, a stove, some crumpled paper, and a long piece of paper. Jeremiah picked it up. It read:
Operation get rid of Jeremiah
Turn the forest against him. Get the birds to hate him. Get the set to hate him. Get Gully to hate him.
Convince the manager to let the Human High School Musical take the spot the set wants. It worked!
Be Jeremiah’s understudy.
‘Besides, people, even one bird, like the human version more.’
Jeremiah thought of what the manager said. Then he felt tired and flew back. He passed Gully’s house. There was a letter at the door. Jeremiah started to read it.
Dear Mr. Gully Sea,
I do not mean to concern you, but I have heard rumors of your friend Jeremiah wanting to sabotage the set. I understand that you have complete faith in your friend, but we all know how destructive snowy owls could be.
Sincerely, a friend. Leave a response by the hollowed tree trunk next to the lake.
Jeremiah glanced in the house. Gully was sleeping. Jeremiah ripped the letter in half and tossed the two pieces in the lake. He knew that Spersemethius had written it, because of the handwriting.
Dear A Friend,
I have complete trust in Jeremiah. Thank you for your concern.
Sincerely, Gully
Jeremiah left the note by the hollowed tree. He had a fleet of thoughts about what Gully would think, however Jeremiah felt it was correct.
There was another note in the tree, an hour later.
Dear Gully,
I am amazed and touched by your loyalty to Jeremiah. Could you please think it over, though? I think that the set is really important.
Sincerely, A Friend.
Dear A Friend, I am very happy that you care so much about the play. But Jeremiah is a truly special owl and this concern is not very realistic. I hope you renew your trust for him.
-Gully Sea
After he wrote the note, Jeremiah set down the letter by the hollowed tree. It let off a perplexing bad smell. The owl flew back to his hole.
The receiver rang.
“Jeremiah. Come to my house. Now.” It was Gully. His voice sounded tense with anger.
Jeremiah flew over, afraid of what might happen.
“What is this, Jeremiah!?” Gully roared, holding up the letters.
Jeremiah gulped. “Uh, I can explain . . .” he started.
“No! No, who is A Friend? Are you really going to destroy the set? What?” Gully yelped angrily.
“It’s Sparsmethius.” Jeremiah told his friend solemnly.
“That doesn’t matter. Why did you respond for me?” Gully yelled.
“I was trying to protect myself!” Now Jeremiah was also yelling.
“Why couldn’t you trust me to say that I trusted you?!” Gully demanded. “I was just trying to get my fermented fish that I keep in the hollowed tree trunk and I see… this!”
“I-I was afraid.” Jeremiah whispered.
“Okay. Well, the performance is tomorrow. You better catch some more sleep,” Gully said. He still looked angry but he wanted to be more responsible as a director. Jeremiah opened his mouth to argue but a yawn came out instead. He sighed and flew back to his hole.
The next day, the set was a flurry of feathers and noise. The robin and penguin buttoned and hooked as all the other birds wriggled into their costumes.
“Presenting High School Musical, Bird Edition!” Gully cried. The curtain went up and a few pigeons started belting out lyrics. The Kakapo joined in. An hour of singing and high school, and it was time for Jeremiah’s solo.
He looked at the audience but none of his voice came out. He had forgotten his lines in the stress. He was supposed to sing about how owls were good at singing, but he felt the opposite.
‘Owls are great at articulation and stuff like that,’ The penguin mouthed.
“Uh, towels have crates of pickled relations with tufts of rat,” Jeremiah sang meekly. A laugh came up from the hundreds of beaks in the audience. Jeremiah shifted uncomfortably. The penguin mouthed more lines, glancing at Jeremiah’s script.
‘The lyrics just go with their beaks,’ The penguin mouthed.
“The licks just know the beats.” Jeremiah choked out. More laughter.
“Adhesive world we know and eat, but I can tote bag the hue cycle. When my ear the rustic, I fold to trance. Towels we far, and towels we ring, Towels are the tars of the hue cycle! I chart the heat in the grill, I give a like phone, I ring, ring, ring! Towels in my gold just dove drew ring!” Jeremiah whispered, glancing at the penguin for lines. Tears filled his eyes. Gully glared at Jeremiah. The audience roared… with laughter.
Then the play ended. Many people wanted Jeremiah’s autograph, including a famous TikDucker. But Gully pulled him away.
“How could you mess up my play?” Gully asked.
“It isn’t just your play. It’s my play, too,” Jeremiah said, almost tearfully.
“No! How could you ruin your lines? It’s like you did it on purpose! That’s what your ‘paparazzi’ thought,” Gully poured out. He put bitter emphasis on the word paparazzi, almost as if he was jealous.
“It’s not my fault! If you are really my friend, you would forgive me,” Jeremiah defended himself.
“If you were really my friend, you wouldn’t have disgraced me!” Gully cried.
“You’re disgracing yourself right here,” Jeremiah pointed out rudely.
“I get most of the pressure because I’m the director! The paparazzi will come at you.The bad reviews will come at me!” Gully explained impatiently. Soon the birds were arguing.
“Gully, my paparazzi – and everybody else – liked my accidental twist!” Jeremiah was getting very angry. So was Gully.
“Not everybody!” Gully told Jeremiah.
“Well, most people. Because they thought I did it on purpose.”
“You sounded pretty bad,” Gully told Jeremiah angrily.
“Very touching comment from a friend. Or are you still?” Jeremiah asked.
Gully stormed away. Well, that sure answered the question.
Suddenly all Jeremiah wanted to do was curl in his hole, sipping tea and listening to classical music on the radio. Gully was putting away the microphones and costumes. Jeremiah signed the last autograph and flew home.
He brewed tea and cried. Then he flew in the forest and sang out the correct lines. He had known them all along, but had felt stage fright. He sobbed.
Gully heard him and felt bad. Jeremiah fell asleep in his bed.
The next day he went in front of Gully’s house, thrust open the door, and sang his solo. Gully grabbed his wing and whispered an apology. Jeremiah looked into the seagull’s earnest brown eyes and fled. An apology! Gully said sorry!
Jeremiah flapped his wings and soared around. Sparsmethius stopped him. Jeremiah expected him to say something bad, but instead he simply said: “You did a good job.”
Jeremiah was shocked.
The sparrow solemnly searched in Jeremiah’s face. Then he flew away.
Jeremiah sipped tea. Then he hunted a bit and practiced his solo for no reason. He felt… good. He thought about everyone. Sparsmethius, Gully, the cast, his mom, his girlfriend. He was proud of himself. He had visited his mom who was at the play and loved it. He had called Juniper, his girlfriend, and she laughed so hard about the messed-up lines that Jeremiah could hear her feathers flying across the room.
I am Jeremiah. An owl. And I am talented, Jeremiah reminded himself, and launched himself into the sky.
The end.
Epilogue
“Three cheers for Jeremiah! Woohoo!” The birds chorused. Penelope the penguin winked at him. Gully smiled.
They were at the cast party.
“Hey Jeremiah. I really liked the play after all. I think you made it better,” A few birds congratulated Jeremiah as he ate fish in a blanket.
“Wow. Did you know the fourth most viewed and liked TikDucker has your autograph, Jeremiah?” A swan asked. Jeremiah grinned.
“Let’s have a toast to Jeremiah!” Gully exclaimed. Various birds raised their glasses of berry and nut smoothies.
Jeremiah thought back to the play. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. He wished he could do it all over again.
Perhaps he would get his wish.