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Greetings! Salutations! Birds of a feather!
Welcome to the Bread Derby, sisters and brothers!
The name’s Pasquale and I’m your host for today—
Colomba of keen eye for fashions of the day ~✦
It’s party pigeon time down here in the square
Where every-birdy’s decked in their fanciest neckwear
Where the have-its flaunt it! And the have-nots want it!
Where upper crusts and lower crumbs clash in showers of grit!
From the rockin’ street doves to the coo-l Capuchines
We’ll pick and peck apart every piece of bird-based bling
Warmers, collars, capes... Gramma’s cornbread cowls?
You might as well go back home with your head in a towel!
We’ll see who’s the boss in their oven-baked best!
And who’s burnt toast that’s only good for lining nests!
Beaks up and b-ready, we’re starting the show
Coo! Here’s our first lady—let’s fluffin’ go!
Behold! This uppity—I mean, blue-crowned royalty:
The Duchess of Dovershire, come to visit from her county
With her pearl-tipped crest as though dipped in icing
And draped with a most exquisite braided bread ring
Such graze! Delicacy! (Maybe a hint of power?)
The air and flair of fresh-milled flour—
“How do you do? Your reds and greens are lovely!”
Hold up, did... she just say something to me?
Why yes ma’am, thank you! I adore them too!
It’s just avocado bruschetta, nothing too frou-frou~
She chortles, nods; then away she struts:
A portly, pleasant presence in her posh, plaited doughnut.
Kerfuffle from the crowds! Cue the world’s favourite Frillback:
Pop idol Pae-Dae, in a cushy cape of flatbread
Luscious curls of feathers bronze all across his wings
A dishy dove indeed: he’s every fledgling’s prince!
His shuffling feet pause, his misty eyes find mine
I wonder what words might leave a beak so sublime...?
“Wish I could sleep, Mister Host, but I’ll do my best
Ask me about the dramas I’ve been filming without rest
Or how everyone thinks my wings are hazelnut flakes...”
Sigh, a celeb’s life! You can’t ever get a break
I’ll interview you next week! Now go and catch some Z’s
Your tortilla blanket should be cosy—but don’t let your fans see!
An emerald dove patters by, sleeves shimmering green
Donning the airiest, fairiest sourdough I’ve seen:
Scored like a flower, flour dusted like a lace veil
Aw, she’s proud of it! Look at her bobbing tail~
“My name’s Paige Pidgerton, I baked it just today
I hope to open my artisan beak-ery someday!”
You’re a natural, miss, this here’s a work of art!
But really, is that all you dream of deep inside your heart?
She flusters, she flushes, her white headband askew
The rosy eyes of a heroine’s fairytale come true!
“Maybe... if I can’t bake for everyone in town
Then at least for some-birdy I’m happy to be around.♥”
You hear them before you see them: Two lean, rugged doves
Squabbling, squawking, crash-landing (on the) square from above
“I told you to hurry, old man, now we’re late for the parade!”
‘Why don’t you stop by a corner shop again, you ingrate!’
Good day, gentlemen! I might have seen you somewhere, sir
Aren’t you G.I. Low, that decorated war officer?
‘Some eye you’ve got, chap! Sharp as this one I’ve got left
Better than my grandkid here who thinks he’s bloody EMS.’
“If this thumbdrive don’t reach later, I’ll be toast-er than my toast!
Name’s Payload Swift, mister, I’m a racer turned pigeon post.”
(Aha! Do I sense a glorious generation gap?
A question trap to set their wings and tempers aflap!)
Living life in the fast lane? Your intake must be insane!
Care to share with us your go-to holy grains?
“This grilled tuna sandwich melt from Leaven-Eleven’s
Is the best thing since sliced bread—a taste made in heaven!”
‘It IS sliced bread, for heavens’ sake! See the junk this boy is eating?
Not like this chipped beef on toast from back when I was serving
It’s provisions! Nourishment! Blessings for the whole flock!’
“Yeah sure, if only you can eat it without a fork...”
A zig-zagging, a tango-ing, a high bird-song and dance
A kererū, post-dine-and-wine, down on the bench in a trance
That passé office plumage versus bland-as-heck handbag—
Lady, your tastebuds are wrecked! And that fruit loaf’s a big red flag!
She waves her bottle—budget Pigeot Noir!—before my eyes
“I’ve seen your shows on CooTube, you’re that real fly guy!
That Nicobar fella who’s gone way up the pecking order...”
Lady, your tastebuds are just fine! Ignore what I said earlier—
“Can you tell me how you’ve been eating every-birdy’s lunch?
You’re now rolling in dough, but I’m just rolling off the branch...
How can a common quill-pusher like me, Karolie Flee
Fly to the top, eat all I want, and still be this carefree?”
Oh Miss Flee, let’s first put my inspiring haute coo-ture aside
No matter what you’re doing, you should do it with pride!
Push all the quills (and your bosses’ too) until you’re seen and heard
But remember: there’s more to you than just this corporate bird!
Sure, your whites, greens and purples may not be the hottest stuff
But if you’re a better you than yesterday then that’s good enough~★
That said, please just toss that brick of cursed candied fruit
Get a loaf that tastes more chic! With marmalade to boot!
So there we go, folks—our roundup of this Derby:
A true-blue cross-section of our bling-based society
I’ve seen a future star baker, courier, wine connoisseur
Stay inspiring, inspired and well rested, you youngsters!
Boast your bread-lace loud and proud, bake it till you make it
The true slice-of-life is how you wear it and what you make of it!
And to every-birdy else who’s stayed with us throughout—
Beak thanks to you all! This is Col. Pasquale, signing out~♫
~ end ~
