“All right, Scorponok, time for you to settle in.”  I place my newly brought parrot in his expansive cage and double-check on his food and water. 

“Fuck you!” he screams.  “Fuck you with a rusty coat hanger!”

“Um…okay.”  I rub the back of my neck.  “That’s not polite.  Think we’ll give it a few weeks to see if we hit it off.  If not, I’ll try and get you some better digs.  Maybe an aviary or something.”

“Bow before Irma!” he screeches.  “Irma Horfendorff owns your cock!”

“Wait, how do you know my ex?”  My brow crinkles in puzzlement.  Suddenly, I notice a little antenna poking up from his skull.  “Hold on—you’re a machine?  What the fu—”

His eyes go blank with swamp-green light, then he launches himself into the cage’s tines, ripping through ’em with a savage twist of his robotic talons.  As I turn to run, he flits about my face and shoulders, pecking me with his beak and shouting, “Irma send her fucking regards!  Buy her diamonds!  Throw out your old t-shirts!  Start using coasters!”

“Ow!  Fuck!”  I blink and stumble, trying to ward off Scorponok with my bent-elbowed arms.  “Not only is the Kimberly Process a joke, the diamond market was built off a deceptive advertising campaign waged by DeBeers in 1938!  Plus, WE’RE BROKEN UP, GODDAMMIT!”

Scorponok settles on top of my mouth, prying my jaws open with his servo-powered talons.  “Prepare to eat some extra-stinky shit!  This is what you get for defying her will!”

“No!  NO!”  I collapse to the floor, trying to pull the attack-bird off my face.  It’s no use—my bis and tris are no match for the cyborg avian.  So I reach in my pocket and open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Just as his cloaca start to pulse, Soccer Mom Prime appears in a blast of interdimensional radiance, and hits him in the chest with a perfect wheel-kick. 

“Get the FUCK off my Man Whore!” 

Scorponok ricochets off the wall, squawks, then flutters his wings and flies out the window.  “Fuck you both!” he screeches.  “Bunch of sex-crazed deviants!”

Soccer Mom Prime puts her hands on her hips, watching as Scorponok takes to the skies.  “Don’t really see how that’s an insult.  Whip out your peen.”

I hiss through my teeth.  “I hate to bring this up, but I have a reputation to maintain…”

She throws a crumpled one into my face, then reaches in her pocket and follows up with a handful of pennies.  “There’s your money.  Now earn your pay, you filthy pig he-slut.”

Welp, guess it’s time to get to work!  Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

Has your ex tasked an absurdly strong, cyborg bird with defecating in your unwilling mouth?  Never fear!  Buy my books, avoid its feces, and get the coitus you 100% deserve!

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