Page 70 of Grumpy Puck

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Page 70 of Grumpy Puck

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A few of my rats produce short squeaks of disapproval, while others escalate them to long squeaks, which is their version of “go to the dick.”

“I don’t think my rats think us so lucky,” I say.

Michael waves that away.“Rats aren’t the peregrine’s primary food source.”

I scoff.“That just means they’ll eat one when there’s nothing tastier around.”

I gather my little ones into their carrier.We’re leaving soon anyway, and this way, they’ll feel safer.

Michael takes another photo.“Being the fastest animal on the planet, the peregrine falcon is famous for its hunting skills.They can even catch other birds.”

“Wow.”Can he spout facts about any random bird?

“They can also fly fifteen-and-a-half thousand miles a year to migrate between continents,” he continues.“They nest on high cliffs or buildings, and they mate for life.”

Ah.That last bit makes me almost sympathetic to this rat-killing machine.

With a whoosh of powerful wings, the peregrine falcon takes flight—and I silently hope he’s spotted a pigeon as opposed to something cute and cuddly, like a rat.

“Did that make your trip?”I ask.“Or was it that big check last night?”

Michael’s eyes darken as he turns toward me.“Something last night made my year… but it wasn’t the check.”

Great.Now I’m blushing.Again.

“How big of a truck do we need to rent in order to move your stuff to my place?”Michael asks me once we land in Florida.

I chuckle.“I shared a room with my sister until recently.My things can fit in the trunk of a car.”And an embarrassing amount of my worldly possessions are actually with me right now.

“Great.”He helps me carry said possessions over to his car, and then we head to my place, where we park next to the lake, the view of which I will probably miss.

“Do you only like birds?”I ask Michael and then gesture at the giant gator who is warming himself nearby.“Or would a close relative of theirs also interest you?”

He shakes his head.“No wings, no interest.”

“What about the ostrich?They have no wings.”

He scratches his head.“They have vestigial wings.Though it’s a moot point because I like seeing birds in their natural habitat, and we’re not in Africa.”

With an eyeroll, I lead him to my place and show him the floorboards that I thought were messed with.

“This used to be Ted’s place, right?”Michael asks, crouching down to examine the floor.

I nod.

“Could it be he left something here, like drugs, and then snuck in to get them back?”

I shrug.“I don’t know the guy, but it sounds possible.”

Michael removes a couple of floorboards and exhales in disappointment.“Nothing there now.”

I give him another shrug and go to pack up my stuff—which takes all of twenty minutes.

“Wow, your community is very nice,” I say when we drive through the fancy gate.

There are herons and giant ducks swimming in a nearby lake, as well as what Michael tells me are snakebirds, along with a whole bunch of other fowl.

“Living here has been very helpful ever since the viral video business started,” he says after he identifies each bird for me.“Security will not allow any media vultures to get inside—or to even loiter near the gate.”


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