For the month of October, the air was rather warm. The afternoon heat had not yet faded from the senses of the city goers, and the evening would prove to be more comfortable than the chill that would come as time went on. For someone of tropical blood and breed, the thoughts of the coming winter were uncomfortable. He hated the cold with a passion, hated the feeling of chills on his skin and shivering in his bones, and would not enjoy the coming holiday season. Alas, there was not much he could do to avoid such discomforts as the weather, so, unless he wished to stay inside for four months of the year, his only option was to put up with it and try not to annoy those around him with his grumbling. Still, one would never think that such a person as Tomás would harbor such a dislike for anything. He was jovial to just about everyone, always willing to crack a joke and shrug off the cares and worries of life. He laughed at and about himself more than anything, always cracking off about his appearance and how he had ended up that way in order to make others feel better about themselves. He flirted with the ladies and the gentlemen alike to keep them on their toes and the rest laughing, and occasionally even followed up with a kiss or hug that was usually met with a slap to the face. It was only fitting that the form he was cursed to be in was as colorful as his personality. Tomás was a toucan.
His beak was obnoxiously long, and a vibrant orange. His eyes were blue, the feathers surrounding them white. The rest of his body was covered in black, although it could look blue in the right light. Because of his beak, his flight was more of a short hop and a glide between perches and posts rather than any sort of majestic flight; however, he didn't seem to mind too much. Although he wasn't a narcissist, he often found himself staring at his reflection in the water and in mirrors in curiosity. It was queer to think that inside the body of what appeared to be a bird escaped from a zoo was a human soul and conscience, odd to witness that he could pronounce the syllables of human tongue without the evolutionary courtesy of lips or teeth. It seemed that even the most ridiculous of curses had their upsides.
The story of how he ended up as a bird was not a story he liked to elaborate on. It involved an ex-novia, and that was as far as he cared to retell. On this particular occasion, the bird was thinking about his predicament while perched on one of the many posts on the side of the canal. Having nothing but a beak, it was impossible to tell from his expression whether his mood was well or not, but given his body language it seemed as though something was bothering him....
His beak was obnoxiously long, and a vibrant orange. His eyes were blue, the feathers surrounding them white. The rest of his body was covered in black, although it could look blue in the right light. Because of his beak, his flight was more of a short hop and a glide between perches and posts rather than any sort of majestic flight; however, he didn't seem to mind too much. Although he wasn't a narcissist, he often found himself staring at his reflection in the water and in mirrors in curiosity. It was queer to think that inside the body of what appeared to be a bird escaped from a zoo was a human soul and conscience, odd to witness that he could pronounce the syllables of human tongue without the evolutionary courtesy of lips or teeth. It seemed that even the most ridiculous of curses had their upsides.
The story of how he ended up as a bird was not a story he liked to elaborate on. It involved an ex-novia, and that was as far as he cared to retell. On this particular occasion, the bird was thinking about his predicament while perched on one of the many posts on the side of the canal. Having nothing but a beak, it was impossible to tell from his expression whether his mood was well or not, but given his body language it seemed as though something was bothering him....
