Tim was born in Arlington, VA, but he’s Californian through and through. He’d already been questioning his decision to move to Florida from San Diego when the rumbling began.
Ice shook in cocktail glasses and half-drunk patrons vaguely shot questioning glances around them. Tim paused for a moment mid-shrug, then remembered he wasn’t in California anymore. He ran to the edge of the outdoor bar to peer at the
The earth shook every one second, spaced out, like with footsteps. Everyone, including Tim the bartender, heard the giant rooster before they saw it. It’s cawing sounded profoundly more monstrous coming from a 30-foot beak. A dinosaur, Tim thought. It sounds like a dinosaur. While TIm was thinking this, however, his patrons had already begun scrambling to the street and away from the sound. They fell over high-tops and clutched their sunglasses to sun-bleached hair as they made their escape.
Tim wasn’t sure where he could possibly run – he wasn’t sure if he were dreaming, or roofied? Could someone have slipped him some acid? Those kinds of shenanigans his friends might have pulled back in San Diego, but not here.
It’s disconcerting, how the whole body tangibly reacts to extreme vibration; as each massive claw crumpled the hot asphalt below, Tim’s organs shifted and his heart stopped. This could not be real. Yet the empty street and the far-oo screams weren’t dreamlike; they were too crisp and the fear hit his spine too directly.
There was a giant fucking rooster slowly making its way down Duval Street.
Tim was still immobile as it passed him. Only a few breaths later and vacationing bodies ducked their heads around lamposts and from behind A-frames. The rooster had moved on. They saw the damage his claws and feathers had left behind: crumpled sheets, overturned tables, trees bent, merchandise all over the place. And there was Tim, wiping the counter down with a rag.
“Can I take your order?” He asked, thinking of California only momentarily before returning focus.
The tourists at the bar visibly relaxed, normalcy restored.
Finally, one said, “I’ll have a cocktail…”