Drowning out the parrots with a loud steel drum. I look up at the sky, straight up and see the parrots flying by. They are worth thousands of dollars. If I caught one I could pay rent but I don't have a net big enough and I'm not limber enough. The sky screams with the anger of a thousand disturbed parrots. We grabbed his purple horn and pointed it straight up. The blast scattered these creatures all across Sierra Madre. The miners took noticed and started burning coal. We had no idea this was the signal they were waiting for. Steam began to rise from cracks in the pavement. We sniffed the air. This wasn't clean air at all but noxious fumes squeezing through the cracks. Gasping for air and seeking somewhere cold to escape the great heat from below. We scatter across the landscape. Throats closed, eyes burning, tears turning to crusty salt deposits, all this and no relief in any direction. Pretty soon orange drops of some kind of liquid were trickling down from what was now a burnt Sienna sky. The drops burned on contact and began to eat away at our skin. Only people in windbreakers were spared but for their faces. Holes eaten away in their cheeks exposing cheekbone upon cheekbone as far as the eye could see. We fucked up blowing that horn and this is all our fault. If it weren't for that cruel urge to disrupt the parrots then the coal wouldn't burn and our faces would still be intact
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