Help! Is anybody there? Mothership? Please help! My name is Jerry. I’m a greater flamingo and I have been birdnapped by some bandidos called Black Honey. My four captors are the hairiest beasts I’ve seen this side of the Rift Valley. They keep me locked in a case in the back of a van, unable to breathe. They’re forever moving round, to avoid capture, like Bonnie and Clyde the two egg-thieving storks that passed our way once. Every few days they let me out and put me on a square black box that gives me such terrible, bad vibrations that I feel sicker than a parrot. Then they threaten to kill me if I give them beef! Cows? As if I would! Buffalos and wildebeest too for that matter. Don’t they know I’m an algaetarian.

So what do they feed me? Delicious, mouth-watering blue-green Cyanobacteria? No! Nothing! I am wasting away by the day. They are starving me. My legs are now so thin they are just pink bone. No food. No water. Nada. Show me the way to the next watering hole or I tell you I must die! I tell you I must die!

I just can’t stand the noise any more. It’s as loud as when the Great White Pelicans fly in for food. Plus the screeching and screaming of those hoardes of crazy tourists flashing their cameras at me. That’s the reason me and the boys left Lake Nakuru for a bit, to get some R & R. And as for those hairy beasts…when they are flinging their guns around and screaming about their insatiable Bloodlust it makes my poor neck spin, let alone my sensitive, spinning, pink head.

I really miss the hood. I miss my crew, the flock, the colony. From one and a half million of us having a squawk and a natter on the water. Now there’s just me, going mad, staring into space, honk honking to myself. And crap do I miss my Jenny. Just before mating season they snatched me. I know that slimy Ben will have moved his bony arse in and made a move on her.

I could make a fly for it but they would shoot me down with their weapons, especially that roaring, crazy faced lioness they call Izzy with her yellow six barrel axe shooter. I have to face her all the time. At least I have a bird’s eye view of her. I’m on guard, watching, waiting for her to grab me and laugh her head off with her pals, Corinne and Madonna, as she wrings my scrawny pink neck. I don’t trust that Tommy either. Stands behind me all the time like a hyena. Reckon he’s up to all kinds of mischief.

Anyway this is a final last-ditched plea. I’m Jerry. I’m now an indie celebrity. Get me out of here! Then, some day soon, this bird will peck back.

©Cre8ivation