22 The Beast and the Parrot

The Beast and the

Parrot The beast wondered why Bethany had slammed the door so loudly. It hoped that it hadn't done anything to put her in a bad mood. Then, with a great effort of will, it slowly climbed to its feet. It was determined to find a way to befriend Bethany. It chewed its tongues and thought about preparing a few ickle surprises for when they came back from the party. The beast was just thinking about what marvelous things it could vomit out for her, when its belly started rumbling and grumbling again. The sound was becoming

more regular and ravenous, ever since the beast had eaten the meaty sandwich. "Shh, shh, shushykins!" the beast said to its belly. "You're not getting what you want, so stop asking for it. You're just going to have to stop thinking of humany food." This was easier said than done. Every time the beast tried to think of something other than food, the belly would make an unpleasant, angry sort of noise, which would get the beast thinking all over again about poultry and piggies, ribs and roast beef, fat juicy chicken legs, and tiny little bones it could snap so easily with its lovely, lovely— "MUST STOP THINKING ABOUT FOOD," said the beast, slapping its belly with its tongues.

The belly responded by growling even more angrily, and the beast in return responded by slapping it even harder. The rumbling combined with the slapping was like some sinister bongo drum. The beast took a deep breath. As it breathed in, it detected a new scent in the air. The smell was fresh and earthy and absolutely delicious. The new smell was quickly joined by the arrival of a new noise—a strange, stifled sort of squawk, which sounded like it was coming from inside the house. At first, the beast thought it must have misheard, but then there was another squawk. "Hellosies?" said the beast. "I say, HELLOSIES?!"

The beast was greeted with so much silence that it began to doubt whether it had heard anything at all. It used its tongues to clear out its ears—but while the earwax was sizzling on its tongues, it heard something else. It heard something that sounded awfully like the flapping of wings. A few seconds later, a young male Wintlorian purple-breasted parrot flew into the room, carrying a trumpet in his talons. "There's no one to protect you now, is there?" said the parrot, with a beaky smirk. "Get ready to say hello to the talons of Mortimer!"