Chapter Five, Part Two: White Christmas at the Ivory TowerMature

The bird-thing is white, and monstrous... and as its one eye peers down at the big big big goldish bow tied snugly atop the shiny box it now is stomping about on, it snaps up the tag in its beak and stares back at it, as if remembering the words.

Good Boy.

Merry Christmas.

Do not open till...

...

The stupid creature! It then drops the card and claws at it, flattening its talon across the words, almost... as though its tiny subdivided lentil of a brain comprehends.

Then the beak.

Oh, the horror!

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

The terror in that turn of head! The malicious, plotting twist of neck as it pounds out its relentless chorus of resounding misery on the box, right on that blinding bloody no good tinfoil paper, in a catchy beat of four.

 

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

...

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

...

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

Peck.

The End

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