crumbs from the sky

So, I'm strolling down the park, taking in the usual - the mundanely green trees, the repeated squawking of birds, the same old lady on that same old bench-, when a boy drops from the sky, out of nowhere. He glances at his surroundings, then me, then the surroundings again, and back and forth until his eyes focus on the pigeons not too far from him.

"Birdies." He whispers to himself, barely audible above the roar of the wind.

"Um, do ya' maybe wanna' git up?" I drawl to him, speech slow and reluctant. It's not everyday you see someone fall out of the sky, let alone someone who does so, and then seems to only care about a couple of pigeons.

"Birdies!" He repeats loudly, as if saying those words again fueled some sort of inner energy. The boy takes my advice, and helps himself up, raising to a height even taller than me.

"They dun' pay any attention t'ya 'less ya bring 'em bread." I say, motioning to the prime example of the old lady who brought a bag of bread each day just to catch the attention of said birds.

My eyes remain glued to the boy, memorizing the pattern of the checkered t-shirt he wore, the slightly gelled blond hair, the faded jeans, and the scratched up sneakers. Not a single scratch messed up the perfect complexion of his face, of his body. Even with such dirty clothes, the boy was perfectly clean.

"Bread?" He questions, as if he never heard the word before. This newfound word seem to draw his attention away from the 'birdies' - or, at least temporarily.

"Y-yeah," I stutter, realizing I had never needed to define the word bread in my life. "It's tha' white thing tha' lady o'there is holdin'."

Pointing directly to the bag of bread, I continue to keep my attention on the boy. However, it didn't take less than a split second for the boy to immediately disappear from my sight, and then appear just as quickly right in front of the old lady. His sudden intrusion to the usual scene flustered the birds, sending them cooing this way and that in anger and fear.

"Bread for birdies." The boy states to the woman, his hand out to gesture his want for the bread. His fingers were sleek. Long. Perfect.

The woman gives him the same look I do, but perhaps more shocked and more judgemental. She stares at him for a long while, her grasp on her bag of bread tighter than before.

"Excuse me, young man?" She raises an eyebrow dubiously. I could tell her scanning the flawless appearance of the boy.

"Bread for birdies!" He responds, voice even louder, with more demand this time.

"I beg your pardon." The old woman says, no longer paying attention to the birds who found there to be a great lacking of bread crumbs.

"Bread!" The boy nearly shouts as he spontaneously attacks the woman, grabbing the bag crudely from her hands, tearing it as he did so. His speed is inhuman; by the time I blink in even more surprise, the bread is already in pieces, dispersed on the floor by the boy himself.

I approach him, even more careful and reluctant. Perhaps he had fallen from the sky for one reason: he isn't human.

My eyes and the eyes of the woman - who had probably suffered a minor heart attack herself - are pasted on to his figure, his actions. We watch as a triumphant smile crawls up his impeccable cheeks, the sun reflecting off his dazzling face.

"I got the birdies' attention." He states blatantly; a myriad of pigeons surrounds him, as if the bread crumbs he had given were a blessing from the gods.

No.

Why so serious, guys?