an excerpt from
AIMEE BENDER’S
The Third Elevator

The queen took a swan for her pet. The bird was white and large, with a body so puffed out and fluffy it looked just like a small cloud, only with legs, with a beak, and with bright beaded black eyes.

“Throw him up in the air,” said the queen, “and who knows who we’d fool.”

But this swan had moods that were heavy. his disposition was not cloud-like at all. he took the world very seriously and sometimes had a hard time because of that. he didn’t even like to fly. he preferred swimming instead and, occasionally, would take a dip in the moat, leaving bright white feathers in his trail like the opposite of footprints. To keep her pet company the queen spent much of her day with the swan, and they walked around the castle grounds together. The two were fine companions and the queen respected the swan’s sad moods, but she did worry about her pet and wished she could find him a proper mate. She made an effort to introduce him to other, sexy swans, but the queen’s swan always arched to the side and refused to interlock his neck with theirs. he was picky. he preferred, in general, to tour the moat.

However, on his own time, while the queen was in the castle hearing citizens complain to her crowned head, the swan liked to go visit with the bluebirds who were scattered throughout the royal hedge like huge loud blueberries. The bluebirds were a lively bunch and, on occasion, came out to visit with the royal swan. Once, on a Wednesday, a bluebird runt hopped out, tiny and cobalt, and she jumped over to the swan and leapt onto his white lush back.

The swan started nervously, but the bluebird insisted that she would not get off the swan’s back until they spent the day together. The two strolled around the gardens, discussing flight and seed and feather rot, and the bluebird was very funny and kept the swan laughing his deep trumpeting laugh. It was a beautiful, rich sound, and one that wasn’t often heard on the palace grounds. The birds even toured the moat together, the bluebird chattering the whole time. By the end of the day, they were deeply in love.

So the swan, being highly educated as most royal pets are, went straight to his mistress who was tired and sweaty after listening to complaint after complaint, and wrote a document with fancy ink on thick cream-colored paper declaring that he and the runt bluebird wished to be married. The queen, while having her shoulders massaged, read the note and put down one daintily booted foot.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You are a royal bird and ought to marry something more—”

The bluebird, still nestled like a lapis lazuli necklace on the swan’s puffy back, tilted her head.

The queen winced. “I mean, you ought to marry something else—” she continued.

The swan hung his long white neck and the bluebird flew into the queen’s eye. She did not peck it out, but just placed the cold hard cartilage triangle of her beak next to the liquidy white of the queen’s tear duct.

“Bless you both,” said the queen meekly.