Philomena Cunk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whatisclocks) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomhigh2017-07-24 03:12 pm
whatisclocks) wrote in fandomhigh2017-07-24 03:12 pm
Entry tags:
Sciencing Things Sciencily: Sciencing Harder, Monday
"Birds are weird."
These were Philomena's first words to the class, as the little chicken roamed about and hopped onto desks and stuff. "Some say birds are secretly dinosaurs that hid and pretended to be something else so the asteroid wouldn't notice them. They say old dinosaurs were growin' bird feathers millions of years ago. But that sounds like a load of horseshit, dinosaurs look like naked goblins with giant heads, we've all seen them on the telly. Actually think there's one living in Brixton right now."
A pause.
"Or that might have been my gran," she mused. "There's just no way to tell."
She eyed the chicken again. "Anyway, birds are weird. They float in the sky, and nobody knows why," she said. "It's this unknowable, impossible thing, like they're from Hairy Pawter or somethin', some evil bird magic. Some wonder if birds might come attached with tiny strings and we just can't see 'em so good. Or maybe they're not flying at all, they're just walkin' 'round the floor with mirrors to confuse us all, the right bastards."
She'd lived with a chicken for months. She knew they were bastards.
"If you ask me, they're just flagrantly spitting in the face of science," she said, stone-faced. "So I want you all to spend today showing the birds that what they're doing is impossible and they should really be dropping out of the sky now." Beat. "By throwing things out the window."
She pointed at the window. "Grab whatever you've got," she said gravely. "Let's prove to these bastards things can't actually fly and airplanes are myths."
The chicken had pooped on her pillow that morning.
These were Philomena's first words to the class, as the little chicken roamed about and hopped onto desks and stuff. "Some say birds are secretly dinosaurs that hid and pretended to be something else so the asteroid wouldn't notice them. They say old dinosaurs were growin' bird feathers millions of years ago. But that sounds like a load of horseshit, dinosaurs look like naked goblins with giant heads, we've all seen them on the telly. Actually think there's one living in Brixton right now."
A pause.
"Or that might have been my gran," she mused. "There's just no way to tell."
She eyed the chicken again. "Anyway, birds are weird. They float in the sky, and nobody knows why," she said. "It's this unknowable, impossible thing, like they're from Hairy Pawter or somethin', some evil bird magic. Some wonder if birds might come attached with tiny strings and we just can't see 'em so good. Or maybe they're not flying at all, they're just walkin' 'round the floor with mirrors to confuse us all, the right bastards."
She'd lived with a chicken for months. She knew they were bastards.
"If you ask me, they're just flagrantly spitting in the face of science," she said, stone-faced. "So I want you all to spend today showing the birds that what they're doing is impossible and they should really be dropping out of the sky now." Beat. "By throwing things out the window."
She pointed at the window. "Grab whatever you've got," she said gravely. "Let's prove to these bastards things can't actually fly and airplanes are myths."
The chicken had pooped on her pillow that morning.