24 The Return of the Beast

The Return of the Beast What's a Mortimer?" asked the beast, as it looked behind the strange, purple-feathered visitor. "Is the Mortimer coming soonykins?" "Mortimer's here already," said the parrot, his eyes ablaze. "And soon Mortimer will happen to you." "Mortimers sound like most exciting thingsies!" said the beast.

"I am Mortimer!" said Mortimer. He stretched his wings to their fullest span and tightened his grip around the trumpet. "And I am not exciting. I'm horrider than you can ever imagine." The beast scratched its blobby head. "I was just thinking how adorable you looked. The gold of the shiny thingy goes well with the purple." "I am not adorable. I'm abominable!" said Mortimer. "Oh dearsies. Sorrykins for the confusion," said the beast. "I'm sure you're scary to lots of people." "I don't want you to be sorry. I want to make you sorry," snapped Mortimer. He dangled the trumpet menacingly in his talons. "And I'm going to do it with this."

The beast smiled at the parrot. It wasn't sure what the bird was on about, but it was all very entertaining. "I said, I'm going to do it… with THIS!" said Mortimer, dangling the trumpet even closer to the beast. The beast just smiled again. "Doesn't it terrify you?" "Not particularly," said the beast. "Lots of people carry them around me. I've never been exactly sure why, but I felt too shy to ask. I can do pretendsies if you like, though?" Mortimer squawked with frustration and threw the trumpet across the room. "I knew Bethany was joking!" he growled. "Ooh, do you know Bethany? How exciting!" said the beast. "I'm afraid she just left"

"I know she left. She left. you to me," snarled Mortimer. "In fact, she's the one who cleared the path for your DEATH." The beast laughed nervously. It backed away from Mortimer, stumbling over a chair. "You must be thinking of a different Bethany," it said. "Scowly face, snotty nose, smelly sweater? No, I've got the right one," said Mortimer. He hovered over the beast as it waddled backward. "She hates you. I think she might hate you even more than I do. The two of us—we planned this together." "Wh-what did you plansies?" asked the beast. Mortimer dragged his talons together. "Watch out," said the beast. "You could poke out someone's eyesies with those."

"Oh, I know," said Mortimer. "I think we'll start with the middle one." The beast couldn't escape the truth any longer. There was a look of death in the parrot's eyes, and that deathly gaze was targeted firmly at the beast. "Wh-why?" asked the beast. It continued to waddle backward, while Mortimer flew above. "Why? WHY?!" said Mortimer. "Because you're a monster. You're the devil in blob form who deserves a long, slow, punishing death." "But I've changed!" said the beast. It tripped over itself and fell to its back—unable to do anything now but watch as Mortimer circled it like a crow around a carcass. "All I want to do is make friends with Bethany and

Ebby-kneesies, and spend the rest of my days doing kind and do-gooding things with them." "Was it kind what you did to Claudette?" spat Mortimer. "Is that your idea of a do-gooding thing?" The beast blinked in confusion. If it really was destined to die at the talons of an angry parrot, then it at least wanted to understand why. "Claudette?" it asked. "I'm terribly sorrykins—that's another of those words that I just don't know." "Don't try that with me," said Mortimer. The beast scrunched its three eyes shut and tried desperately to remember this "Claudette" word. "It feels familiar to these