EXT. ZOO — CAFETERIA — DAY
LOU the crow paces atop a picnic table. FRANK the seagull stands behind, watching. Tossed salt packets and a broken bird’s band lie between them.
I’s don’t know, I’s don’t know…
What’s ya do, what’s ya do…
Now, come on—no use beating
yourself up, mate.
But that’s it, mean, that’s it. It’s
all me, it’s all me. He never asked,
Listen, you chose to be his friend—
and the best anyone could ask for—
and regardless of how he sees you,
he can’t take that away. What you
do for him counts, whether he’s
doing the counting or not. If he
doesn’t see what he has, the world
does, mate. The world does.
That’s may be, that’s may be.
I’on’ts regret, don’ts regret. I do
it over, would the same… Would
Of course you would, mate. That’s
what makes you a friend. He may
never see what you do, but he still
needs ya. And you’re always there.
Aren’t ya. Still.
Okay, okay. You gots me, you gots
me. Maybe Man’s best way he is.
EXT. ZOO — POISON IVY PATCH — DAY
MANNY the crow rummages through a smorgasbord trash. His legs are bursting sausages—one dented, one swollen over its band. Salt abounds.