
I took this as an omen of good fortune in light of my recent unpleasantnesses, and celebrated by removing my shoes and enjoying the breeze generated by their beating wings as it wafted against my soles.
The birds then took it in turns to expertly suckle at my toes, which surely offered them scant nourishment, but which soothed me greatly. Each tweet from each beak seemed to declare me Monarch of their race.
I feel now that they expect me to offer them sanctuary and to bestow upon them favours, but I will be a hard King, and will rule with an iron fist.
2 comments:
Tweet.
Do not attempt to curry favour with me, birds, for I am immune to your bribes.
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