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Frank and Charlie devoured most of the delicious chicken that Frank cooked for them.
All that's left is the beak.
Charlie pretends like he doesn't see the beak. Stares at the TV like he's really into politics.
"Charlie, you need to eat the beak."
"What?"
"You heard me. Eat the beak."
Charlie crosses his arms. "No."
Frank sighs. "Charlie, come on. Just pick up the beak an' eat it."
"Not eating the beak, Frank."
Frank rolls his eyes. He doesn't want to do it, but Charlie has a shit diet and he needs those beak vitamins and minerals.
"Okay, okay. It's come to this."
Frank reaches down and picks up the bright blue spoon from the dirty floor of their apartment. He wipes the bowl of the spoon on the front of his maroon shirt. He scoops up the beak from the table.
"Okay, I got the spoon, Charlie. Open your mouth."
A smile flickers at the corners of Charlie's mouth. He shakes his head.
It's. come. to. this.
Frank sighs loudly. Puts on his "happy clown face," the face he used to put on when Deandra and Dennis were babes and he had to feed them because Barbara was off downing pills in their bedroom. (He's pretty sure his "happy clown face" is one of the main reasons the kids are off their rockers now.)
With eyebrows raised to the ceiling and a grin that threatens to swallow up their apartment, Frank slowly brings the spoon closer and closer to Charlie's mouth.
"Heeeeere comes the beeeeeak of da biiiird! Beeeeeak of da biiiird comin'!"
The spoon is now lightly resting between Charlie's lips.
"Oooopen your mouth for the beeeeeak of da biiiird!"
A giggle accidentally escapes from Charlie as he opens his mouth. The spoon slides inside. Frank likes the feel of the spoon in Charlie's mouth, the warmth emanating from it. Charlie gently clamps down on the spoon and steals the beak with his teeth and tongue. Frank carefully withdraws the spoon from Charlie's mouth before things feel too weird.
Frank silently watches Charlie as he crunches on the beak. Swallows it.
The spoon falls out of Frank's hand.
The words rush out of Frank's mouth. "How was it?"
Charlie shrugs nonchalantly. "It was okay. Not overcooked like last time."
Frank smiles. "That's good. I'll try to cook it the same way next time."
They sit in silence, watching the TV people argue over each other.
Charlie lied. The beaks always suck. But ever since he started making Frank feed him the beaks, they haven’t been sucking as much.