Moas

There was this cute Moa I saw walking home from the convenience store.  He was seven feet tall, counting the head, and with his black feathers, he seemed sort of punk rock.  Actually, I don't know if the bird was a boy or a girl.  He kept looking at me with one eye, and it seemed like he was asking me for something. So, I fed him a Dorito.  He ate it, and followed me home as if he liked me.  I fed him the rest of the bag, on my back porch.  His bird head was very strong and he did funny things with the bag for a few minutes.  Next morning, there were two moas in my back yard, so I fed them bacon and eggs and played Houses of the Holy for them as they hung walked back and forth.  I though they might need an education.  The next morning, there were six moas, and I was out of bacon, but I had eight eggs left.  The next morning, I was ready with bacon and eggs and even toast, and the ten moas seemed very happy and even sat through a Deep Purple album without complaining.  Next morning, I tried to sleep in, but I awoke to a crash from the living room.  A moa had opened the door and was in my living room, holding my computer keyboard in its beak.  Machine head was playing at an uncomfortable volume.  I went back to bed.  Next morning, two Moas in the living room, and Iron Butterfly was blasting.  They had no interest in eggs.  In A Gatta De Vita was playing for the third time as I left the house for work.  When I came home, two Moas were smoking cigarettes on the front porch and I smelled weed coming from somewhere.  My stash was mostly gone and my refrigerator empty.  All fifteen Moas, except the two cigarette smokers, were sleeping on the living room floor.  They got pretty mad the next day and I had to move.