Wednesday: Feathers, Photo Fees, and Careless Whisper

Wednesday · October 28, 2026

Wednesday began with a Bug on a chair.

Not an insect. Angie—Jerry’s mom, Shanna’s “Bug,” and the reigning banana-and-coffee champion—was stretched out on a pool lounger.

“There’s a bug on the chair,” Jerry reported from Pennsylvania.

Blue raised his clipboard. “Location confirmed. Subject horizontal.”

After Tuesday’s rain, Shanna’s agenda was simple: hoping for no rain. Jerry advised her not to get bored.

“I’m bored out of my mind,” she replied.

The Pig Patrol exchanged looks. They had barely clocked in.

Then Shanna asked about Jerry’s karaoke that she’d heard about. There was some sibling discussion, followed by her official assessment: “Ur a goofus.”

Yellow looked impressed. “She didn’t even need a color for that one.”

By later in the day, Shanna’s report had improved considerably.

“Living our best lives.”

Followed by: “I almost got taken out by a wave.”

Red stared at the ocean. “That was a very short best life.”

“Almost,” Blue corrected. “We record the almost.”

The beach looked ready for a postcard: sand, sea, sunshine, and suddenly more animals than the patrol had budgeted for.

Shanna posed with two colorful parrots and a monkey. One bird perched on her hand, another near her shoulder, while the monkey settled in as though it had been included in the reservation.

Yellow counted them. “Two birds. One monkey. One sister.”

“Keep that list handy,” Blue said. “Someone’s going to need it.”

Angie got her turn with the birds, including a parrot perched on her white cap. The banana crown had apparently been upgraded to live entertainment.

“Her Majesty has feathers now,” Red whispered.

Then Angie discovered the photos cost sixty dollars.

Blue stopped writing.

“Sixty?”

Yellow looked at the parrots. “Do they come home with you?”

They did not.

The rainbow pig quietly stepped out of the imaginary photo line. Having every color in the rainbow was one thing. Being billed by the color was a risk he wasn’t taking.

The pictures made it into the football chat, where Robert, Jerry’s best friend since third grade, had a question.

Robert had lived in Uniontown, where Angie, Jerry, John, and Shanna lived, before moving to Florida after high school.

“Which one is the monkey?”

Shanna answered with a sarcastic laughing meme.

Another reply suggested a sloth.

Yellow slid his animal list into an imaginary envelope marked URGENT.

“Send this to Florida,” he said. “They’re having identification problems.”

On Facebook, the photos prompted another question: what was the monkey holding?

The patrol inspected the small yellow item.

“Evidence,” Red said confidently.

“Of what?”

“No idea. But I said it confidently.”

Blue left that part of the report blank.

Mark, meanwhile, offered the public a different sort of wildlife photograph: himself at the swim-up bar with Shanna, both holding drinks.

“I know it’s amazing how photogenic I am,” he wrote. “It’s a gift.”

Blue studied the picture. Shanna smiled. Mark raised his orange cup with the calm authority of a man who had already reviewed his own performance.

“Who gave him the gift?” Yellow asked.

“Apparently himself.”

“Was there a receipt?”

“Not everything is the sixty-dollar birds, Yellow.”

Red practiced looking photogenic in the reflection of a puddle. A green droplet hung from his nose.

“Needs work,” said Blue.

Angie had also found jewelry from a seller on the beach. She told Jerry it was much cheaper than buying it at the hotel.

The patrol approved of this financial recovery.

“Excellent,” Blue said. “We’re rebuilding after the parrot incident.”

She was eating less that day, too. After overdoing it yesterday, a little restraint seemed sensible.

Yellow nodded solemnly, then checked whether anyone had mentioned dessert yet.

Down the beach, Angie had found a fellow reader: a woman with a book by Elin Hilderbrand. The two of them got talking, and kept talking.

Shanna came over to rescue the stranger. “I’m sorry my mom is bothering you.”

The woman said she wasn’t bothering her at all. They were having a great talk.

Blue quietly put his pencil away. Some reports don’t need a joke.

Later, Jerry called his mom. Angie was waiting for Mark and Shanna to get ready for dinner, relaxing in a large egg chair—big enough to stretch out in.

This was no ordinary perch. This was an egg with legroom.

Yellow immediately wanted one.

“For headquarters,” he explained.

“You mean naps,” said Red.

“Headquarters naps.”

For a moment, the day’s jokes gave way to something quieter. Angie told Jerry that everyone should experience a place like this at least once in their life.

Beyond the surprise charges and blistered feet, she was enjoying being there: the surroundings, the company, and a little time to simply sit.

Even Blue lowered his clipboard.

Then a call came in from Shanna’s friend in Fort Myers. Jerry told his mom to go ahead and talk to them. He asked her to let him know where they ate, what she had, and what they did that evening.

She told him to call tomorrow.

“Tomorrow’s briefing confirmed,” Blue murmured.

Yellow was still measuring the egg chair with his eyes.

That evening, Angie sent a smiling picture of herself and Shanna.

“Just the 2 of us having a romantic dinner. Lol.”

The next dinner photograph included Mark.

Blue turned back a page.

“Update: dinner for two now contains three.”

“Maybe he’s the gift,” Yellow suggested.

Mark’s earlier photography announcement was going to follow him for a while.

The plates arrived, and Jerry spotted a familiar theme.

“Steak again?”

“Yepper. We are turning into cows.”

The Pig Patrol fell silent.

Red slowly looked down at his own hooves.

“Can that happen?”

“We’re investigating,” said Blue.

“Yesterday she was eating like a pig. Today she’s turning into a cow,” Yellow whispered. “This resort has a very ambitious activities program.”

The rainbow pig tried a discreet moo. It came out as a snort.

Blue checked a box. “Still pigs.”

After dinner, Angie, Shanna, and Mark settled in to listen to the band perform “Careless Whisper.”

The day finally slowed down. Shanna relaxed on the sofa, Mark sat back in his chair, and the music carried through the resort lounge.

No missing passport. No bingo ruling to appeal. No one asking the parrot about its hourly rate.

Just a song and comfortable seats.

For a few minutes, anyway.

That morning, Shanna had been “bored out of my mind.”

By evening, she was off the sofa and on the dance floor.

First she danced with one of the performers, a man in a shirt so shiny that Rainbow briefly checked whether one of his colors was missing. Then she joined a whole group dance with the rest of the resort, keeping up as if she’d been rehearsing all week.

Blue reopened his clipboard. “Correction: subject no longer bored.”

Red tried to copy the steps. Yellow went left. Red went right. The rainbow pig spun in place until all his colors blurred together.

“Are we dancing?” Yellow asked.

“Apparently,” Blue said. “Nobody charge us sixty dollars.”

When the music finally stopped, the invisible patrol gathered nearby for the evening report.

Blue read from his clipboard. “Bug located. Wave survived. Birds photographed. Jewelry acquired. Mark remains photogenic by his own assessment. Shanna officially un-bored.”

“Dinner?” asked Yellow.

“Steak.”

“Species?” asked Red.

“Under observation.”

The band played on. Yellow settled against a cushion. Red tried to look like he understood the music. Their rainbow companion swayed gently, all his colors accounted for.

Somewhere far away in Pennsylvania, Jerry had enough material for another chapter.

Blue closed his clipboard and whispered, “We leave them alone for one day, and now they’re cows.”

A tiny snort escaped from behind the sofa.

For once, nobody needed to investigate.