He liked watching the high school guys practice hockey during their phys-ed period. If the rink was empty, he would usually use the stolen money to go to a movie.

He leaned against the boards and cradled his chin in his folded arms. He watched them bash one another and shoot the puck around. The icing hiss of blades across the crosshatched ice rink pleased him the most. Ice skates were knives on shoes and hockey stick were... Just then one of the players spotted him.

"Hey! there's that little DP again." He laughed and skated over. " Say DP, do you know who's ignorant, rides a pig through the desert, and sucks pricks: the high school guy pressed his face into his. He had pimples and his breath stank. He was huge He scared Ory to death. " I don't know." he blurted out. " Hey, the little DP doesn't know the answer. Well, I will tell you DP, its Lawrence of Ukraine, your father," They all laughed. Ory ran away scared.

Ory had built the pigeon coup all by himself. It was large and sturdy. About 8ft x 6ft. It housed fifty pigeons. He was very happy to go inside through the only entrance, a hidden trap door in the back. Only one other person knew how to get in, and that was Karla. He lit his small stove and the lantern. He was safe again, inside his pigeon coup.

Some of the pigeons gurgled, others just watched him with their little red eyes. One, sitting on the hockey stick his father had given him at Christmas, was preening its iridescent breast. Only one feather dislodged and it floated like a snowflake to the floor of the coup. At the back of the coup, he had built nesting tiers to accommodate thirty six pairs of nesters. The racks he had made were four nest wide and three nest deep and four nests high.

Every so often he would chase all the nesters off their nest and rearrange the eggs at random. By the time the eggs hatched, none of the pigeons were sure whether the hatchlings were theirs or not. Some pecked the babies to death. Every day he sat for hours inside, just watching his pigeons.

He heard the trap door open. It was Karla. Her cheeks were read from the cold and she sniffled a hello. She seemed different today for some reason. They sat quietly together for a while watching the pigeons. "My mother found out you skip school all the time. She told me I couldn't come over any more."

Her eyes widened. " Where'd you get all that money? " She could see change bulging in his pockets. "The pigeons bring me money every day." He laughed. " If you show it to me today. I'll give it all to you," he said. It wasn't an awful lot of money for Karla, but not enough. " It's not enough." Karla said, then bowed her head in thought. "But if you tell me why the pigeons always come back plus the money, I'll show it to you."

His eyes narrowed and he darted a glance at the pigeon on top of the hockey stick. " OK." He expected something exciting was about to happen. But, she sensed something was wrong. She jumped up, nearly falling because her panties were caught on the one ankle and the chickenwire mesh of the cage. " I showed you, now tell me why," she panted, out of breath, "..why do the pigeons always come back?" Further up the pigeon on the hockey stick cooed softly, way down in this craw. "Because I make them come. Pigeons always come if you con them into thinking there's no place else to go."

"That's no answer. That's not fair, you cheated, she kept yelling in a high almost inaudible way. You cheated. Then she began to cry. He put his hand inside his jeans pocket and gathered up all of his coins. " Get out of my pigeon coup! he yelled. "Take your money!" He smiled a funny kind of smile at her.

So Karla took the money. She cut her nee on the cage as she tore herself through the trap door. The door fell off, and the pigeon on the hockey stick, in a wild flapping pattern of wing and movement, made for the opening. Before it got out, Ory hit it with the hockey stick.

Later, he fixed the door, bolted it, then nailed it closed from the inside. He sat there and looked at his pigeons. They cooed at him.

Ory hated every one of them at that moment.