And the story just gets weird

New twists as of noon on Nov. 5:

But what could be done about it? Nothing.

 Little did she know that he was out on the road, driving with gritted teeth and a half a bottle of lukewarm Cherry Coke next him as his only companion. His tension had formed into little knotted muscles in his back. He missed Therese, but had had to leave before he could properly explain why he had to leave. He felt like crying and vomiting at the same time. But he was too busy dodging the birds walking on the narrow, twisty road to the plant.

Snap out of it he thought, he didn't like his mind dragging him into past's abyss. He thought more of Maria. Maria Maria Maria, perhaps... he then gave himself a mental slap! I need to focus, he was frustrated with himself. These birds these dangblasted birds!!!! He felt that he was about to lose it, he heard a noise off in the clearing not to far into the twisty road, he slowly turned, something weird definately this way comes...

and nearly sideswiped a tree as the procession exited the clearing and began trooping across the road, fronted by a silvery unicorn dressed in bright ribbons and tinsel being led by a rolly-polly figure in pink coveralls and a pointed hat with a short round brim. Next in line were a pair of elephants ridden by winged monkeys. Bringing up the rear was a cartoonish old guy with a broom and push-can. Marching along side were two columns of birds.

Wendell slammed on the brakes, slid to a stop, closed his eyes and shook his head violently. When he peeked again through half-open lids, only the birds remained. They weren't marching anywhere, just standing around looking confused.

"That doctor wasn't kidding, was he..." Wendell thought, and cringed. He took a deep breath. "I've got to get a grip." 
He drove onto the main road, towards the plant. "But, really, what's up with the birds today?"

Add to the story at Cate's Communal Writing Project or in the comments section of this blog. Be sure to check out the discussion page. You can post comments and speculate about where the story should go.

For the life of me, I can't figure out what's going to happen next. That's where you come in. I've already been surprised and delighted by the character and plot development. Wendell is turning out to be quite a character: widower, Greatful Dead fan, feeds the birds (and those birds!?!), drives a pickup, left a job with Maria (hmm...) to work at a nuclear power plant, and now he - what? hallucinates? There's a lot going on here. And it's out of my control and into yours. Have fun. Write happy.