The Brief Awakening of Dawn and Death 3

So, I go downstairs, and there’s Burney, sitting on the couch, chewing. No, not chewing, popping.

But, before that, I was flying off to save my grandmother from Derek. That Derek was a fiend. I was going to need some kind of sports drink if I was going to defeat him, especially since he would have no trouble getting the entire CFS to join him in his quest. I mean, I know after the death of Winifred Flammel there were only six of them, but those guys were some seriously tough fruit fanatics! There was Melissa Jukebox, Nelly Narrative, Crepuscule Krog, Doob, Lockstep Splashdown, and, of course, Derek. Without an army of my own, or a sports drink, I was doomed. And so was my grandmother, for that matter. So, obviously, my first stop would be Nurfenville. I hadn’t been there for a long time, to avoid Kevin, but after I realised toucans were immune to his beach ball there really wasn’t anything to worry about anymore.

I continued my delectable flap-like movements of internal dialect, and gazed upon the wondrous repeated patterns the sky had to offer. As I approached my destination, I let Melvin know how much I loved him, just out of habit. I landed delicately by the bus stop where I had met that pale fellow with neon yellow eyes. Wow, it had been a long time since I’d been here. What I really needed, though, was Mount Wycheproof and its pixies. See, while the pixies loved me, they were deadly to the ones that are not fortunate enough to be loved by them. Those guys get vicious. But, that was a lost cause, for Mount Wycheproof was never to return. I wondered what it could have been that made the environment take a dramatic change. I replayed the events from that day, a day full of both joy and pain, and tried to find the cause. There wasn’t one. It must have been Melvin. He knew I was upset (because he’s all-knowing) and so gave me the land I so desperately needed. Melvin bless himself...

But, anyway, this matter was far more important. I needed a sports drink, and fast. Really fast. I flew from where I stood in hurried motions, past where I had curled up in pain, past that building with the glowing, green matrix inside it, and came to the convenience store. This was no ordinary convenience store. It sold only three things: batteries, engagement rings, and, of course, sports drinks, therefore making it, ironically, not particularly convenient to many people. But, fortunately, it was extremely convenient to me. I flew in, picked up a sports drink, and queued up. I was behind a blue man wearing seventeen hats and carrying six handbags, who was buying eight engagement rings. Then, it was my turn, and I placed the sports drink on the counter. Then, the shop owner, through me out, muttering some rubbish about not serving toucans. Erm, RACISM! Now where was I going to get a sports drink?

That’s when it hit me. I didn’t have to get a sports drink. I just needed someone to get one for me...

I turned around to be greeted by a familiar face. A familiar, pale, face. A face that seemed to be staring into my soul.

I explained my situation to him about seven times, and he did nothing. I pecked him in the foot to try and get his attention, but that just made him scream and run away. He really was a strange one...

I continued walking, but, to my delight, the environment was undergoing transformation. I stood still and watched the change, until, finally, there it was. Mount Wycheproof.

Oh, the pixies! Oh, the joy! Oh, the yodly yomit choco swum with multi-popswable toy!

With these guys on my side, I no longer had any need for a sports drink, that much was certain. I cawed insanely loud, and the pixies screamed their war cry behind me. Then, we took off, leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia (lumberjack reference).

“Morphinus?” called Denuloson, my personal favourite of the pixies. I turned to face him. “Where are we headed?”
My grandmother’s house, of course. I sent him a toucan signal that expressed as such.
“Yes, but... well, where might that be?”
It was knocked down after my grandmother died. Now, how did you say that in toucan sign language...?

After a long while, I managed to tell him.
“So, if your grandmother’s dead, why are we saving her?”

...

...Um...

Wow, he had a point. I turned back, apologetically, to see the outraged faces of pixies. They didn’t love me, not anymore. Their glare alone was terrifying. I was done for.

No! Rubbish! I’d got out of trickier situations than this before! Who was it who served as prime minister during the Second World War? Okay, Winston Churchill, but I gave birth to a bear! You think giving birth to a baby is painful, but those things are bloody huge! Churchill can suck it!

Then, I was falling.

Falling, falling, falling...

And when I resurfaced, I was not the same toucan I had been. I had an entirely new perspective on life. In that moment, I became aware that my mother was not my mother. But, I had bigger problems, for I had fallen right into the lair of the Bulgarian sheep. They gathered around me, bleating with pure hatred. Did they know it was me? Or did they think I was just a clumsy, toucan passer-by? I couldn’t be sure, so, I did the only thing I think to do: tell them I had taken their children hostage and they would not be released until they performed a sheepish version of Pygmalion. Why did I want them to do this? It would buy me time, and I loved that play...

I wasn’t sure if they heard, because they didn’t kill me, but didn’t perform Pygmalion either. I started to wonder if they would even care if I left, but then the grand production began.

Dun dun de dun!

“I say, I say, I say, why do ducklings walk softly?”

“’Cause they can’t walk hardly!”

“Ha ha ha ha!”

Dun dun!

It wasn’t Pygmalion. This was something else. This was the art of genius.

I mean, I knew these guys were smart enough to outwit the humans in the Great Sheepy War, but I thought it was an “evil genius” kind of smart they had going on, not a show-biz intelligence. I also thought they were just crazy evil. I didn’t realise it was an “I-am-the-way-I-am-because-I’m-talented-and-still-didn’t-succeed” thing. These guys were killers, but I felt sorry for them. I vowed in my toucanly way that I would help them give up their genocidal ways and take up a career in musical theatre. It’s the logical path to take... but not now. Now, they needed time to hone their skills. And I needed to be somewhere happy...

I needed to find a place of love and goodness, a place where I could be happy again. Like... Helsinki!

Helsinki: Finland’s great capital. Oh, how I yearned to be there... But a toucan just can’t fly that far. I was going to have to find another way. But how? But, there was no time for that then, the computer was starting. I got some hot chocolate and sat at the computer screen. My immediate reaction was to go on Google and Google... HELSINKI! It looked like such a charming place. So charming, in fact, that it lifted me from where I sat.
I was soaring, flying. There wasn’t a star in heaven that I couldn’t reach. If I was trying, I was breaking free. Although, the religion of Melvin does not really support the idea of heaven. I looked at the muddy trench below me and fell.

Falling, falling, falling... again...

In the muddy trench, I found hope. Hope that I could one day be reunited with my loved ones. That we could work out our problems. Loofentyle, Denuloson... I loved them so. Then, I wondered about Derek. Was he really so evil? I mean, sure, he tried to eat my grandmother, but does it still count if I have no grandmother for him to eat? I couldn’t be sure. I was going to need some kind of outstanding study. But, there was no time for that, for just that second I imploded without cause.

The End.