BOOM SHAKA LAKA!

BOOM SHAKA LAKA!

"TURN DOWN THAT BLASTED MUSIC!!!" Cranky old Mrs. Magillicutty screamed out of her kitchen window. Squawkers heard stories about this oldcoot, so he loaded up his boombox & headed

for the pavement for a little Avion Break Dancing, Squawkers laid down the cardboard and pushed play. Mrs. Magillicutty stared silently. Freakazoid exploded out of the speakers and

the bird began to do his thing. Magillicutty thought that starting with the Carlton was a killer choice, but the worm that follow was nothing compared to the Electric Boogaloo

He was impressed by the bird's dance repertoire. He could really cut a rug! "I wounder if he would be willing to take his act on the road?" mused Magillicutty.

"Nah," piped in the bird's guardian moth. "He's a purist. He's in it for the joy, for the art. He doesn't care about riches, material gain." Magillicutty darkened. "What? Is he a

Useful idiot like all the other creatures of the night. Birds are in it for the prey." The bird flew around the room, catching bats and dropping the dead bats like confetti.

The speech and the display were both considered as they stood in mute congress. This always weirded Kleece out. All those people frozen like statues speaking with their minds. She

pherd's Pie was served, and the people ate while continuing to speak with their minds. Kleece yelled something about talking with their mouths full, but no-one paid him any mind.

Within two generations, the children of the community were born without mouths. Like appendixes and men's nipples, the body part was useless to this telepathic tribe, lost forever.