the owl's last hurrah

a chance encounter

reminder: the narrator (I) is a non-gender-specific bear. this is just a universe of animals.

[based on a true story]

Far, far into the night, the last of the drunks have stumbled out of the bar and banded onto the streets, where the hubbub of slurred voices have diminished into distant noise. I mop the cheap linoleum-glazed acacia floorboards and watch the frayed ropey tendrils swish back and forth. It is this time of night that is most comforting, with the hazy glow of vintage chandeliers and the lazy lilt of a jazz quartet drifting through the speakers.

I return to the counter, where I prop the mop up in its place and untie my apron, ready to call it a night. My bar is technically a 24 hour one, but I doubt any more customers will come in, not even the nocturnal ones.

But tonight strayed far from the usual.

Coming from my peripheral, I see a blob of tattered green feathers swoop in through an open window (the main entry for our avian customers) and land, scuffling, on one of the faux leather bar seats. The blob of green feathers rearranges itself, and there appears a familiar beaked face I never thought I'd see in such a setting.

"One mojito, please," the green owl coughs out, voice akin to a gruff action movie star's.

"Duo," I say, pleasantly surprised. "I haven't seen you in decades."

The owl turns to face me, and I immediately notice the hints of red in his enormous unblinking eyes, and the dulled, matted mess of feathers, once a brilliant neon chartreuse.

"Good to see you, man." I extend a paw in greeting. He leaves me hanging like a true cold bitch, so I let my paw drop, tie my apron back on, and get to work making his drink.

"Sorry. Do I know you?" Duo cocks his head and I can tell he's trying his best to muster up a polite smile.

"Uh- yeah. We went to college together. We did the entrepreneur course together."

"Ah, yes." The sides of Duo's beak force themselves into a grin and he nods overenthusiastically. "I remember now." (He doesn't remember jack shit.) 

Duo was the star student in class - cute, amiable, social, friendly. He spoke more languages than we could count and was always eager to help everyone else out. Sometimes a little too eager, to the point of being discomforting - but nevertheless, he was favourited by teachers and peers alike.

Despite his tendency to fatshame me in around 20 different languages, I had once respected him too. He'd spoken about his goals, unabashedly open with his hopes and dreams. He wanted to create an empire of learning languages, he'd said, an empire of communication and trust. An empire so great that no other animal could compete. And he, Duo, would be the infamous face of this empire.

And I had watched his empire grow after we had graduated. It was plastered all over the news, an inescapable reminder of his talent. I watched him fly and soar above the rest of the world like the gifted owl he was. I watched this powerful company become famous worldwide until it had crossed over to the human world as well. I watched him reach the peak of his career, shining and splendid, surrounded by diamonds and riches and praise.

And then I watched him fall. I watched him lose his grip on reality until he spiralled deep down into an inconsolable madness until he was no longer Duo the Great, but Duo the Fallen.

I stick a slice of lime on the side of the drink and place the glass in front of the green owl, and indeed, when I look at him now, I can only describe him as "fallen". "Broken", perhaps. His tired, weary eyes are glazed over as he eyes the drink with little interest, and I wonder why he ordered anything in the first place.