Good Morning

Annie was hanging out of her bedroom window giving every single bird that flew by a cheery, "Hello! Good morning to you!". It was driving him nuts. "Could you ... would you," Brian started (shutting his eyes against the sound), "call her down for a snack or something? Anything? Tell her there's a baby squirrel wearing a bonnet and pulling a tiny wagon across the yard?" Donna laughed. "Of course, but on one condition." ("Hello, little friend! Good morning to you! Good morning!") "Name it, for the love of anything holy," Brian groaned. "That you leave the house, sweep into the side yard like the crabbypants condor you are, and call a good morning up to your daughter," she instructed with a smile. "I shall do this," Brian muttered, "or die in the attempt." "You're a man of great valor," Donna encouraged him with a grin and a wave. ("Hi! Hi, there! Hey, little guy! Good morning!") "And good morning to YOU!" Brian called up from under the old oak, raising his eyes in utter amazement to find owls, ravens, crows, birds of every conceivable kind, and a wayward parrot to boot, looking down at his intrusion with dismay from the branches above. Annie waved to him and he silently turned, immediately returning from whence he'd come. "Why, hello!" Donna said cheerily. "Good morning to you!" "What's happening here?" Brian asked. "It's like a Hitchcock parody." She laughed and handed him a cup of coffee (saying nothing, but turning her head to look at him). It was almost birdlike, that movement, but he had never really noticed it before.