Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!

“We are gathered here ta celebrate the life of…”

Woah! It’s been a long time guys, I really missed all that time we used to awkwardly share together where I just talk at you and describe what this delightful wonderful man does. If you don’t remember, all narrators are monsters because we’re just invisible people like you, but like also telepaths… We’re people too damn it. Sorry I left the toilet seat up and your wife got mad, that totally was my bad and I would have said something but then you would have known I was in the room when you were… We’re all monsters. Also, someone tell that Reality guy to stop following Fred Dick around and come back to the rest of the world, and tell him he still owes me a coffee from that narrator's meeting. Fucking dickhead. Anyway, That guy talking? That’s The Generalissimo. He’s the best. Just look at him, all dressed up in his military attire, speaking to this poor gaggle of birds that is very sad.

But anyway, he’s up at the podium, and the menagerie is standing at attention behind him. The amazing group of freedom fighters and liberators stand solemnly, the look of concern and empathy etched across each of their faces. Well, besides that fucking bicycle. I’m pretty sure it can see me, or it feels me? I don’t know, I can only read minds, and whatever that thing is, it’s fucking terrifying. So the bird folks are real sad, you know, they have a lot going on right now.

“... Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!”

His magnificent pronunciation of a mysterious birdman’s name soars through the towering ceilings of the chapel. When [REDACTED] originally built the island he had this giant cathedral put in as the chapel. I think it has a banksy on the ceiling or something, but I can’t really tell with all the illustrations of our magnificent Intimidatorness. The birdman choir continues to coo “Thunder Rolls” by Garth Brooks as The Generalissimo continues his wonderful work. Oh, I forgot to tell you about them. Or, oh yeah, what the hell we’re even really doing.

So those sad birds, they knew this other bird, and it’s very dead, so now we are at an Avian funeral. Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! Was a top earner in the scam center, and got to eat a weekly lunch with his majesticness. So he was pretty awesome, and you know, everyone is pretty sad that he’s dead. RIP Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! Gonna miss watching you ruffle your feathers in the bathroom while you snorted copious amounts of cocaine and amphetamines.

“Our wonderful friend, pal, top earning birdsociate, and generally great mysterious birdman has passed on inta the big Daytona in the sky. He’ll ride shotgun with the Intimidiator as they run 212 without any of them damn restrictor plates. Only people that like them restrictor plates are Jeff Gordon fans, and thats just cause they ain’t figured out that rubbin’s racin’...”

Oh yeah, anyway, sad birdmen, dead birdman, and the choir of bird people that’s assembled behind our magnificent leader. The sopranakeets screech at the top of their little birdman lungs at the mention of the near satan Jeff Gordon’s name being mentioned. The much larger birdmen with the short little stubby wings let out a bellow of a call that’s really more like a squawk, but you know, being ostrichatone’s of the birdmen world it was pretty tough to get down there and find that necessary bass with their birdlike vocal chords.

But they tried really damn hard for their friend Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! The birds go back to cooing in their eerie but pretty dope ass harmony. You know, just providing the hell out of some real sad background ambiance that you’d only expect to see from religions that aren’t island based.

“Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! Has found his turn four, and he’s left us here, all alone.”

The sad bird cooing is met by a subtle wail from Lord Kurosame-sama. If you’ve never seen a shark cry, it’s a real sight to behold. The sheer humanity Lord Kurosame-sama is blessed with, while also being a terrifying predator of the deep. Absolutely touching.

“But we’re not alone, oh hell naaaw, ain’t no monster in this entire world all lonesome and shit. Cause each one-a-ya is lookin’ out for the other, we’re out there doin’ the work and our blessed friend Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! Will be watchin’ down from above at the work we’re doin’ for monsters all over the entire got damn world.”

I love when he gets like this, when he talks about the cause and what we’re all about. The strengthening and recognition for monsters all over the world.

“AND WE WILL KEEP DOIN’ OUR WORK!”

The bird choir begins to rise in tone and volume as The Generalissimo provides us with his transcendent words of wonderful inspiration. I really believe we can do anything right now.

“‘Cause while Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! Might not be here ta see it, he’ll be up there and he’ll be feelin’ it! ‘Cause we all know that boy was high as shit when his heart exploded.”

The crowd nods somberly. Facts are facts, and Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! loved cocaine and amphetamines as much as he loved bilking elderly Americans out of their retirement funds through scam emails. The two were symbiotic, and he was a great worker. Really brought an energy to the room.

“...And now he’s made the ultimate sacrifice fer the cause. He’s given his life fer all of us…”

I’m so sad right now.

“He was a patriot, a compatriot, all the atriot’s we can think of, he was all of ‘em. Just absolutely a magnificent birdman specimen. He had them thighs, and them big ole…”

So sad.

“...What a birdman. He lived the creed, he followed his dreams, he worked every day ta achieve equality fer all of us. He was a provider, a mysterious birdman of unquestioned effort and integrity.”

You couldn’t argue with the effort of a birdman who could swallow a thirty day supply of Adderal before noon.

“He lived the values, he lived the creed, and now, he’ll live on forever in each one of us…”

The birdchoir coos softly and somberly again. Their song causing many birdmen to burst into tears. I’ve been sobbing for the last minute and a half already, I can’t help it. I cried during the movie The Sixth Man. Do you know how sad that movie is? It’s about a man playing basketball with his dead brother, and he can’t even hang out with his brothers friendly ghost, he has to leave.

So sad.

“Tonight, we take part in sharing the flesh of our friend Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!”

The birdmen separate to the side and a large table is wheeled into the room, being pushed by a large group of mysterious birdmen wearing chef hats. They push the table into place and the birdmen and the menagerie gather around the table.

“Let us hold hands, ta wings, ta fins, ta handlebars, ta paws and errythin’ in between.”

Nobody leaves me a spot, as usual. I have to kind of push my way through some of these feathers here and make sure I find my spot right here at the table. I could never imagine missing this. “Let us pray.”

I bow my head, as do all of the mysterious birdmen.

“Dear Lord Intimidator. Great number three, please allow our friend Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!’s sacrifice not be in vain. Allow his sacrifice to continue to fuel the revolution one last time. We move forward, as monsters, in your name, into the darkness, against the diamonds. Allow his drug addled, cocaine filled corpse to provide the needed energy ta destroy Brandon Youngblood in his home promotion of PRIME and capture the Blood of the Young. Allow the birdmen ta continue their life saving, important tech support operation. Lord, let Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!’s memory and body push us forward inta the next phase!”

The birdmen prepare themselves as The Generalissimo steps up onto the table, Rory Hayes, bearded hippo mask and all passes a chainsaw to the M. Bison cosplaying young Larry Bird lookalike.

VROOM.

It’s a pull start so it takes a minute.

VROOM.

VROOM.

The Generalissimo angrily lowers the saw and mashes the primer a few more times, and finally gives it the yank of all yanks.

VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

The birdman choir comes down to the table and begins swaying back and forth as The Generalissimo begins to walk down to it’s center where a roughly six foot long, 300 lbs. thanksgiving turkey is fully prepared. My mouth begins to water, and I’m sure his Eminence is starving.

VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The chainsaw continues to roar as The Generalissimo holds it over his head, revving it as loud and as high as it can possibly go, before driving it downwards into the giant turkey carcass.

BLARGHKASJDBLAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Bits of birdman corpse fly into the air, the birdmen frantically try to catch bits on their plates.

AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOM 

“Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR FLESH! WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR BODY!”

The menagerie and the birdmen hold up their plates hungrily.

“AND YOUR LAST SACRIFICE!”

I start grabbing bits of birdflesh off of the plates of those around me, it’s so delicious, and juicy.

“RAISE HELL! PRAISE DALE!”

All of the birdmen and menagerie in unison shout/shriek the same thing as they dive forward into the carnage of birdmen feeding.

“AMEN!” 

The Generalissimo wheels with the right drumstick and storms to the head of the table as, oh, Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! You are so delectable. Your golden browned skin is crispy and perfect, the deep frying process has left  you magnificently juicy. The spices, the flavor, the busch light they basted you in. My word. You are one delicious fucking bird Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!. Sorry about that, I got carried away. Anyway, The Generalissimo is discovering what I just discovered and the rest of the funeral turns into absolute carnage.

Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! Was a big ass bird though, and it takes a good twenty minutes to get finished with him. This stuffing is exquisite too, The Generalissimo’s own recipe, wow, it’s really great. I can’t feel my teeth. Lord Kurosame-sama is massacring a section of the corpse by angrily ripping it with his teeth, the birdmen are pecking away at their carved sections. Rory has acquired a large portion and has placed part of it in front of the fully antlered homicycle.

This is a lot of people in the room for it not to commit any violent murders.

Slowly the birdmen having had their fill of Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE! begin to shuffle their way out of the chapel, but the Menagerie stay and wait. Finally, after the birdman choir sings their way out of the chapel, the menagerie is left alone with the remnants of Cluck-Cluck-Kee-Kee-ruuuu-AYEEEE!.

“Hell of a bird,” Garry says to Rory as he rubs his protruding stomach. Rory nods his hippo masked head and turns to follow the Generalissimo back up onto the table. The Menagerie slowly descends on the carcass and finishes a mild dissection of their former friend. The monsters pull the corpse apart and finally escape with the second prize.

The furcula.

Not the shitty college football offense either.

This wishbone was gigantic, and The Generalissimo held one end out to any of the other Monsters. Lord Kurosame-sama steps up to The Generalissimo’s invitation and grabs the other side.

“What do ya wish fer, Lord Kurosame-sama?” The two stare across the wishbone.

“🦈”

“Me too.”

The two yank on the gigantic bone as hard as they can, twisting and turning in opposite directions, and finally the furcula separates and snaps. The Generalissimo holds his half of the bone high in the air as Lord Kurosame-sama looks slightly sad. I whisper in his ear.

“You both wished for the same thing.”

The soft whisper is enough to get Lord Kurosame-sama out of his malaise. If you’ve never been the subconscious of a shark before, it’s pretty thrilling. You should try it sometime. I do it about once a week. Anyway, the menagerie is happy, The Generalissimo just wished that he would murder Youngblood with a hatchet, and our bellies are full, all is good with the world.

I still can’t feel my face.