“Oi!”

The sounded jerked Bert out of his dreams of being chased by roasted ducks demanding for Bert to ‘Eat me! Eat me!’

He coughed and blinked his eyes opened. The sky was a riot of yellow, orange and purple colours. It reminded him of the fried fish he had at a nice Thai restaurant once. The fish was fried to a delicate crunchy gold, and was decorated with orchids that he had tried to eat-

“Oi!” said the voice again. Much louder this time.

It was then that Bert realized that it was very, very quiet. The cacophony of Whack! Whack! and Quack! Quack!s were gone. He cautiously sat up, mindful of the fact that he was still in a tree and that falling out of bed would mean a really long way to the ground.

Bert stretched, and cracked his neck.

He leaned over the side of the tree.

The ducks were all still there, but they were all deathly quiet.

It was scary.

“Oi!”

Ah, Bert sought the owner of the voice, and deduced the none duck, bipedal person as the one who had spoken.

He had ears like a spaniel, and a pointed black nose like a dog’s.

Bert gave his best ‘Meeting people for the first time’ smile.

The spaniel man tilted his head, one ear actually went up higher.

If Roberta had been here, she would have squeeeeed her way down the tree to hug that spaniel head against her chest, and whispered nonsensical words in a high pitch voice.

However, the closest thing that got Bert to actually go ‘squee’ was when the supermarket had a fifty percent discount on trout heads. A whole trout head!

“Whatcha doin’ up there?” shouted the spaniel man.

“I- I was escaping the ducks.” Bert said truthfully.

“Escapin’ da-” Spaniel man gave a wheezed, than started to laugh his head off. Well, not really, that would be awkward. But the spanielly inclined person had to support himself against Bert’s tree as he wheezed and coughed and laughed again whenever he saw Bert or the ducks.

Bert gave him a frown he reserved for people who did not know how to use Excel.

Spaniel man finally coughed himself into some semblance of dignity and wheezed. “Them ducks ain’t dangerous.”

Bert’s frown escalated to the one he reserved for people who did not know how to use Excel but refuses to admit it.

“Sorry, sorry, come down, laddie. They won’t attack so long as Old Yeller is here.”

“... …” Bert decided to just climb down the tree carefully, and reserved his opinion on his saviour’s name.

Old Yeller was not a tall man.

Bert, for all his faults was fairly tall and average looking. Roberta loved his average looks and his unusual height, because this way, she can change him into whatever character she wants.

He had been cast into the role of various dark brooding characters, whose main job, so it seemed to Bert, was to slouch in a corner and provide ambiance. Naturally, Roberta was the star of whatever show she had decided to concoct, with Bert lurking in the background for atmospheric reason.

Once, most memorably, he was dressed as a big chested, tall woman who stood morosely behind Roberta so that her character could look smaller and cuter in comparison.

“The name’s Yeller,” said Old Yeller as they shook hands. “Whatch’ur name be?”

“Bert.” said Bert shortly.

“Bird!” Old Yeller was delighted as he slapped his thigh. “Hah! Good name for a tree climber!”

Bert considered correcting him, but then one of the ducks hissed.