Good mockingbird sex! Anyone?

The line for the pharmacy snakes down Warburton Avenue in Hastings-on-Hudson. We’re all buying the same thing — earplugs — in case they work better than smothering yourself with a pillow against the mockingbird that downs a double espresso at 3:45 every morning and then begins singing at 4. We’re not quite as desperate as he is, but we’re getting there. He’s just gotta have female mockingbird tail, stat. He’s like an 19-year-old boy. This mate-to-be of his is taking her time, like an 18-year-old girl. Note that I had to change their ages so that you wouldn’t worry about illegal things happening between these crazy kids. I was going to make the male mockingbird 18 and the female 16, but that would be against New York State law. Anyway, we are all hoping she hurries the heck up, because we can’t sleep. But she is playing really, really hard to get — or hard of hearing — neither of which can be good for the mockingbird gene pool, but who am I. She lives maybe in a maple tree in New Jersey, on the other side of the Hudson. Maybe she can be 16 in New Jersey — but they’re probably going to mate in New York, so it’s moot. Anyway, she’s got several manic singers to choose from, is my guess, and she just, you know, isn’t sure. She’s a libra. They’re all so earnest, these suitors, and she adores the flirty serenading she gets this time of year. Make ’em beg, she read somewhere.

So our guy shrieks louder every morning. His genes are on the line, and he’s just gotta have it.

Sex! Sex! Sex! You know you want it! You know you want it! You know you want it! I want it! I want it! I want it! Pick me! Pick me! Pick me! Sex! Sex! Sex! Over here! Over here! Over here! Over — wait a second while I fly ten feet to my left — over here! Over here! Over here! Sex! Sex! Sex! You know you want it! You know you want it! You know you want it! Good mockingbird sex! Good mockingbird sex! Good mockingbird sex! But I can sing all the songs, so I’ll take anybody! Anybody! Anybody! Come one, come all! Come one, come all! Come one, come all! Anybody? Anybody? Anybody? Sex! Sex! Sex! Pick me! Pick me! Pick me! Stella! Stella! Stella! Over here! Over here! Over — let me go back to that first branch — over here!

Duplicate that paragraph five hundred times and you have the morning voiceover that awakens the good citizens of at least two adjacent apartment complexes on the otherwise tranquil east side of the Hudson. We have all been awake since 4, and it shows on the faces of the people at Greenleaf Pharmacy.

I’m tempted to continue his song, cause this is all verbatim, directly transcribed from this morning’s songs, so it has that scientific interest factor. But I think you get the main idea, and I’m next in line.

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