“I am so tired of sticking my beak up animal butts to slurp out all the entrails. I want some chocolate! Why does everyone else get to have THEIR ice cream?”

Shapeshifting humanoid vulture Carla Rachella Amanda Medici Moran hatches a plan and flies down to the swamp where her love-child, bog witch extraordinaire Bernadette Moran Cacca swims and devours the living when she’s not burning port-a-poops nor doing charity cover songs just to look good.

“Hey, do you want to go with me to the Egon Spangler Candy Factory in Ohio? That’s where they keep all the dum-dums.”

“No, it’s not nice to call people a dum-dum…” the holier-than-thou Bernadette Cacca snarks as she rejects her mother’s offer and bites the head off a man whom she just ate for supper.

“Fine. Don’t come to ME when YOU want a favor!” Carla squawks as she flies away.

“What an idiot. First Sonya breaks into my apartment, moves some stuff around, then she pees on my bed. Last year she posted a nastygram on my door accusing me of stinking up the floor from cat pee. The litter-box had just been scooped and there was no smell. If she poops out another fake lease violation, I am going to scream. Then I’m gone done report her to the Illinois Fair Housing Department. I’m done with her shenanigans.”

So go the postings on Manteno People and Places. Albion Places and People. Musings Around South Bend. This is not her first rodeo. She owns apartment complexes all across Northern Illinois and Indiana.

“Yeah, last year when the guys came in to do the bug inspection, they broke my shower-head. Then Sonya had gone and issued ME a violation!”

Complaints continue to pour in.

“Come in” Sonya Marie Smith Moran says, beckons, then gets up to close the door.

“Yeah I’m here to pay my rent.”

“Name and apartment number?”

“Edith Smith, apartment B240.”

The tall, slender, shapeshifting humanoid vulture taps away at the keyboard with her talons.

Edith can see from the angle at which she is standing in the tiny, closed office that there is a flash-note on her account. 

Sonya’s assistant, JB the Turd Burglar comes over and looks at Sonya’s screen, craving Evansville brains after a long day stealing turds.

“You’re late.”

“I just got the bill Friday and it’s due today.”

Sonya’s eyes get really big.

“OK I am just gonna stand here and watch this interaction to make sure it’s copacetic.”

“Here is my check. I’d like my receipt.”

“You overpaid.”

“I would like my receipt.” Sonya prints her receipt and Edith walks out the door.

“She did not seem as biligerant and obnoxious as it says on the computer.”

“If it’s who I think it is, she made my last assistant cry,” Sonya projects.

Edith cracks the door back open pokes her head back in. “No that was two assistants ago. That was Erick, and he’s an idiot. He deserves it.”

“Put in that she eavesdrops too.”

Edith walks away, lets the door hang, and laughs in Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dumbs’ faces. “You guys are morons. You need to get better hobbies! Maybe you’d sleep better!” she cries out sarcastically, then looks away, strutting her stuff like she’s living her best life — because she is.

“What’s this?” JB asks as he holds up a blue and white winter hat with the words “Be Nice” embroidered all over it.

“It fell off a truck,” Sonya snarks as she puts the hot hat onto her hard head.

“Time you asked for a refund!” JB jokes as he points at his boss, who does not look pleased to say the least. 

JB leaves his job for the day and drives his Turdmobile over to his favourite singer’s house. No not Gothic Diana Ross and the Midnight Supremes, thankfully for them.

“Bernadette!”

“JB!”

“Hey I got something for ya, honey puddin’!”

JB shows Bernadette the hat his malignant narcissist boss ripped off a tenant and puts it on his communal narcadoodle lover’s head as he walks in the door.

As the two sit on the couch to chill, JB’s former boss – and Bog Witch Bernadette’s other lover – Undead Greg Schneissder emerges from the washroom. Bernadette, the self-proclaimed “piano dominatrix” gets up and gives Greg a stern look. Hey poopy-brown eyes say it all.

“I flushed this time!”

“Did you wash your hands?”

“Don’t nag me, lady.”

Undead Greg spies his employee JB sitting in his seat. “Hey, wanna go over to Evansville and eat some friends? I mean some fried brands. Brains. Excuse me, I’ve had too much of your spicy fecal matter again.”

“I’ll do anything to get out of Manteno.”

After losing all but two dollars in the local mini-casino, Carla soars over to the factory in Northwest Ohio hoping to satisfy her sweet-tooth, only to discover they don’t even make chocolate there.

Hanging her beak in disappointment, she tries to raid a mini-mall ice-cream shop in Sandusky, only to be chased out by the customers grossed out at the sight of a vulture with a six-foot wingspan invading their space.

After doing some fluffy sky donuts across Ohio and Indiana, Carla goes looking for a vending machine. Sadly the only ones she could find take CryptidCoin — not to be confused with Craptocoin.

The shapeshifting humanoid vulture busts the door open of a highway convenience store down in southwest Indiana. “Ah finally, some chocolate ice cream with peaches, licorice and oatmeal raisin cookies! My favorite kind!” Carla thinks to herself as she wolfs down the entire half-gallon. She savors her last bite, only to puke it all up outside.

“Get away bird, or I will call the cops! Stop stealing our crap!” the clerk demands of the bird-brained thief. Carla had tossed her cookies and ice cream out of fear. That’s what you do if you’re a vulture. 

Undead Greg and his buddy-pal JB have just got their fried brains at the annual festival in Evansville, Indiana. JB chows down when suddenly Greg’s plate is swiped by an unseen force. He slams down his fists and starts making off-color remarks.

A certain vulture can be seen in her natural habitat, eating dead stuff off a plate.

“Wow, that’s the weirdest thing I’ve seen all day,” Cierra Glitchmore says to her wife.

“You’re surrounded by people eating brains,” April Fool-Glitchmore deadpans.

Then Sonya empties all over the ground and her feet the caustic waste of her previous day’s feast.

“Have that lady arrested!”

Sonya causes a public freakout, cameras naturally rolling, including those of the Evansville television station covering the brainy event.

“I pee freely. I poop freely. I’m a bird. I go wherever I want to. You can’t discriminate against humanoid shapeshifting vultures! Do you know who my niece is?”

“Umm, never heard of her,” Kitty Bee reports.

“Carla? What are you doing here?”

“And this is history in the making. As you just saw this…umm…human vulture thing just…well…make a mess where she probably should have not gone. Evansville police have got the woman, bird person in custody. Man, it’s been a day. Reporting live for Evansville TV, this is Kitty Bee.”