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Summary
Parrot glared miserably at the sad little drawing of a birthday cake he made in the dust on the rusty wooden floor, the sound of the storm outside defeaning, as he strained his ears to hear the 'tick-tock' of the clock, signaling the nearing of midnight.
𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯.
He mused in his head, a light sigh escaping him as he tried to shuffle into a more comfortable position on the floor—his temporary bed.
𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴.
The sound of the storm outside seemed to grow louder. Harsher. Yet Parrot paid it no mind.
𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴.
𝘛𝘸𝘰.
.....
𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗠
The whole shack shook, Parrot bolting upright from his position on the hard floor, the sound of his cousin's startled shouts mere background noises to his ears as he caught sight of....
A seven-foot clown???
"Well, hello there."
𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘶𝘤—