Quincy the Querulous Quetzal
You know the kind of quetzal that argues and objects and just plain refuses to compromise, give in, or even agree that someone else might be right? Of course you do.
That was Quincy’s nature. Polly the Peaceful Parrot might say something like, “Nice day, isn’t it?”
Quincy would say, “Not really. The sun hurts my eyes and it’s way too hot.”
Or if someone like Aaron the Angry Alligator slapped his tail and snapped, “I hate it here. The sun’s too hot and the water is disgusting,” Quincy would respond, “It’s actually quite lovely here. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
If Beatrice told him he looked especially nice today, Quincy would complain he couldn’t do a thing with his feathers and his beak was peeling. And that ornery opossum I haven’t told you about yet could run up and tell Quincy the sky was falling, and Quincy would stand out in the open in total denial and say, “Is not, is not, is not,” until the sky fell on his head and mashed him flat.
The sky never did fall, but a big limb did. A kind owl hooted the warning, but Quincy never knew what hit him. I’m sure he was still mumbling, “Is not, is not, is not,” until the last second.
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