It was festive. That's all he'd wanted from

It was festive. That's all he'd wanted from his Christmas and he was getting it, even though he'd never made it home. Who'd have thought a leather bar's Christmas Eve Freak Night

would be so boring. It was lamer than a Rocky Horror picture show party thrown by the renaissance fair drop outs. This party needed a jolt. He grabbed the tupperware with bats

and let them loose. The flying, hairy creatures terrified the crowd. Good thing he remembered to poke holes in the Tupperware lids earlier in the day or the bats would have died in

their Servin' Savers. Wasn't THAT name ironic. Little plastic tombs for the small nocturnal birds. But no matter, the birds were fine and entering beehive hairdos all over town.

It was from the beehive dos that the birds controlled things. They had an early version of wifi, and thus banded together to get themselves an unequal share of the feed. Blimey,

they were smart birds. Not a single human being suspected the secret technology, but the birds knew they had to act soon or lose the element of surprise. Unlimited food was their

south as birds are wont to do. They flew with the wind beneath their wings. Humming "You are the wind beneath my wings" the entire way. It would become their battle anthem.

That is until actual battle ensued. Their anthem was quickly muted by the enemy and what was once a flock full of song was now nothing more than a sickly pile of beaks.

Our intrepid hero glanced around, satisfaction pooling in his guts. Yes, this was the Inuit way, he thought. He squatted down, fishing for the perfect beak. A pendant for his lady