The Bluebird of Something Somethingness

Charlee: “Lulu, ask it what it’s still doing here.”
Lulu: “You’re still here? We thought you went with Spicoli to make deliveries.”
Blue: “No, I just helped push his van to the top of the hill then came back down, since you have a pretty cushy setup here. Plus I heard that those cats like birds.”

Charlee: “Little birds, Lulu. Tell it we like little birds.”
Lulu: “You’re a bird? Most of the birds we see around here are a lot smaller than you are.”
Chaplin: “‘Most’? What do you mean, ‘most’?! What birds have you been looking at?”
Blue: “Sure I’m a bird. Look, I have feathers and wings and three toes, and I can sing. Tra-la-la-la-la!”

Blue: “Of course, technically birds are me, since my species came first, but still. Birds is birds. Birds of a feather. And all that.”
Chaplin: “We don’t believe that thing is a bird. It has teeth. Since when do birds have teeth.”
Charlee: “If it’s a bird, where’s it’s nest?”
Lulu: “I’m not sure we have proper accommodations for a bird of your size. A giant nest, for instance.”

Blue: “Don’t worry about that, I’ll just park it up here. These blankets and pillows will make the perfect nesting spot for me. So, when do we eat?”
Chaplin: “Nice going, Charlee.”
Lulu: “Do you two have any more questions you’d like to whisper in my ear or are you good?”