The Buffington's

Once upon a time, in a lush meadow cradled by a stream, lived a lovely family of Portuguese Pigeons named the Buffington's. The Buffington's had lived in the meadow along the stream for eight generations. The patriarch of the family, Roscoe Buffington, had escaped from the cage of a magician named the Amazing Letdown when he was just a youngster and had barely sprouted his wings. He learned to fly on his own and had done his own laundry since he was an infant. Over the years, the Buffington clan had multiplied tenfold into a tribe of sweet, strong birds who took care of their own and respected the land. They regularly socialized with the other singing birds, deer, snakes and even humans who shared their land. It was well-known throughout the area that the Buffington's were outstanding in flight. They had evolved into an amazing family of strong fliers. A cousin named Roosevelt Buffington had created a school of bird Aviation in the 1970s, and still today they use the same methods to teach their young the art of flight.

One day the Buffington's woke up to the sound of the gentle stream and the beautiful songs of the other birds chirping throughout. Today was a special day; it was time to teach the younglings how to fly. As the family gathered at tip of the tall Oak by the stream, all of the birds' little hearts began to putter with anticipation and excitement. They knew today was their day! Today was the day they learned how to fly. When Papa and Mama Buff arrived, they all lined up, as they already knew the drill - and one by one, the delicate and cheerful kids were pushed from the branch of the mighty Oak and forced to fly on their own. And one by one, their instinct took over and in no time they flew with ease. Everyone cheered and joy spread throughout the tree. Even the family of grumpy turtles, named the Schmicks, came out to see this special occasion. 

Finally, when the whole family had gotten their wings, it was time for the family to take flight together for the very first time, a Buffington tradition. And they did. What a wonderful sight it was, the whole family in formation. The sky was theirs, and the sky really was the limit. The sun was shining and the gentle breeze lifted them higher and higher. 

Then, as Papa changed course due west to fly over the park, a Boeing Jumbo 757 roared out of nowhere and sucked all of the Buffington's into the bowels of its Micon A640 Turbine engines, spitting out nothing but a couple of feathers and a broken beak. The Buffington's were dead.

THE END.