I hate the Birdbrains. They're so goddamn fussy. You can't even have a full conversation with them without the bastards waving their superiority at you.
Caw. Caw fucking caw. Why don't they speak slower and with a bit more legitimacy in their fussy voices. At least a fake realist approach to talking, you know? You fucking know.
I can't believe I had to meet with them. Why did I again? Oh. Oh right. To negotiate the terms of our agreement. Well, screw that. I swear to Yogi that if I see any more goddamn birdcrap I will fucking tear something apart like maybe the Mona Lisa fuck that painting that chick has no eyebrows.
One of them threatened to fry me to death if I didn't behave. I laughed. On most normal days, a human's body like mine would absolutely explode into millions of bloody pieces after contact wtih an electrical discharge of the magnitude they're capable.
However... my body isn't exactly normal anymore, now is it, Mr. Rivers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mr. Rivers is a dear friend of mine. A lovely, lovely friend. You'll be seeing me mention him a lot for the next few months. Don't worry. He won't be mentioned forever.
Once he's erased he'll be gone for good. From memory, from posterity, from all of reality.
To cut a long story short they clucked their beaks and agreed to our terms.
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