“I just flew in from Boise and boy are my wings tired. Woooow! What a view, huh? My name’s Jerry by the way. Where’re you in from? You don’t talk much do ya? Come on folks, this is a monumental occasion! The Statue of Liberty…the symbol of freedom…Ahem.”
With one wing raised and the other over his heart, Jerry began reciting.
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
The others remained silent.
“Sheesh, you guys ain’t easy to impress!”
The local crows looked at each other and back at Jerry, their disinterest obvious.
“Tourists!” One said and kicked a pebble at the bewildered pigeon. “Yeah, tourists!” The rest followed suit.
“Let’s get out of here boys,” Skipper said and dove off Lady Liberty’s crown. The others fell in behind him.
“What?! Was it something I said?”
Jerry was never very good with social cues.