By Enola Jones

The strange noise, half-scream and half-bird call, woke Davy from a sound sleep. He jerked up, startled. “…..what?”

The noise sounded again, and Davy knuckled sleep from his eyes to find himself looking into a pair of black eyes in a dark blue tilted head with a yellow beak.

Frowning, Davy got out of bed and walked to the door. He turned to look back and sure enough, it was still there. He walked on out and jerked his thumb back toward the bedroom. “There’s a peacock in the bedroom. Why is there a peacock in the bedroom?”

“It’s mine,” Peter called from the kitchen. “Don’t bug it.”

“Don’t bug it?” Davy gasped. “What’s it doing there?”

Before Peter could answer, Micky came downstairs. “Hey, Pete, I’m gonna borrow your cloud shirt if it’s clean, okay?” He walked into the bedroom.

Less than a second later, Micky was back out, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a peacock in the bedroom. Why is there a peacock in the bedroom?”

“It’s Peter’s,” Davy said. “And he was just about to explain what it was doing there.”

“What what was doing where?” Mike asked as he came into the house from the beach. “Hey, Dave, I told you not to hog the towels again. Bet they’re in the bedroom.” He began to cross the room.

“Mike…” Micky began, but Mike had already vanished into the bedroom.

Sure enough, less than a second later he was out, frowning. “Hey, guys…”

“There’s a peacock in the bedroom, we know,” Micky said with a nod.

“And it’s Peter’s and Peter was going to explain,” Davy said.

“Well?” Mike asked, crossing his arms.

Peter grinned. “It was on the news this morning – bunch of animals got out of the zoo after it was robbed. Someone had some kind of lock collection or something—every single lock in the zoo that could be cut off was missing. Found the peacock on the beach and brought it inside.”

“Have you called the zoo director?” Mike asked.

“Yes, he’s on his way,” Peter smiled. “That peacock won’t be in the bedroom for long.”

“Good.” All three winced as the strange half-cry half-scream sounded again. “Because,” Micky finished, wagging his finger in his ear. “That is getting downright annoying!”

Mike glared at him. “Stop stealin’ my lines.”

“Yeah,” Davy put in. “Line-stealing leads to more weirdness. Last thing we need is Mike sliding down the banister or something!”

HEY!” Mike roared, but they were all laughing. After a moment, he shook his head and joined in.

That was how the zoo director found them when he arrived half an hour later to take charge of the wayward peacock.

The End

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