He calls her.
He gets her prompt, leaves a message. “Thanks, hon’. How sweet. How’d you get those guys to work on a holiday? I heard the backhoe in the yard, looked, and saw a new tree with a bird in it. Quaint. Talk to you later.”
The next day, he sees her at the office. On coffee break, he says, “Whoa, hah-hah. That was funny: that backhoe in the yard again this morning. Another tree and another bird and two other little birds. Guess I’m gonna be buying some bird food, no? Hah-hah.”
The next day, he walks over to her cubicle early. “Hey, hon’. Wanna come over for supper tonight? I’ll be cooking up some partridge. Oh, and you might wanna back off a little with the gag. The neighbor griped about the morning backhoe. Another tree, another partridge, two little ones and three cluckers. Whadda they eat? Corn? You too. See you later.”
Next day he calls her before leaving for work. Message: “Hey babe! What’s this? Chill out already. Backhoe again, partridge, two more of those cooting suckers, three more egg nests in the yard, and now four cheeps. This is getting weird. Okay? Maybe I’ll get a BB gun. See you at work. Love you.”
Friday he calls her before cooking supper. “Howdy. What? You too. Yep, I signed for’em, but I think I’m gonna have to sell the rings to pay for all this bird care. You bet. There’s bird shit all over the yard and the neighbor came over and squawked at me again. This’s getting kinda serious, you know?”
“What? I mean, yard’s not big enough for all these trees, pears or not, okay? That’s five. I came home to yet another partridge. Two more doves is eight. Three more hens is six. Heck, I may have to build a pen. Or wring their necks and eat’em.”
“What? Nope, neighborhood ordinance doesn’t allow free range. And now four more birds calling on and off. That’s eight, right? Hope they migrate, else I won’t get any sleep.”
“What? Yep, love and kisses. See you Monday.”
(Wait for the weekend. And next week. You can see where it’s going…)
Happy New Year!