Horizon Ridge with many a flirt and flutter

see yall in hell

a large shadow soared unhurriedly against a favorable afternoon sky, the tousled tips of wingfeathers outreached and smearing the embodiment of nuisance across the bearings like someone dragging a wet cigarette butt against the concrete. the only thing that would make the sight anymore majestic would be if bartok could produce the clarion, badass shrill of a hawk – but from his larynx would come no badass shrill, but the glottal rattle of grim come to collect paling life, raking and apprising ears wrought with dread.

but death hag he was not, and could not be, and did not particularly care to be. he was a notorious fugitive from responsibility, and planned for the day that unfurled before him was an undertaking of great priority and importance to him – he simply did not have the time management skills to take care of his own personal business and dance attendance on the chores of some lazy almighty son of a bitch who maybe wasn't as smart as people gave him credit for.. considering he hadn't so much as visited the thought of issuing a monastery of collies to herd/rapture his sheep to whatever neato dorito afterlife awaited them.

(i mean, it's 2015 dude. get it together. amazon prime exists. exploit that shit and you'll cut your work load in half, then you can browse pornhub or reddit or whatever, but we all know you're doing that anyway since you're forwarding all your mail to cloaked motherfuckers with their scythes and whatever. omnipotent my heathen derriere. amen)

the starless daub dropped from the skies abruptly, spilling to the earth like a black jet with a freshly licensed pilot negligent of imperative target procedures who'd just had a lovely transaction with the side of an alp. into the ridge's trees bartok crashed – deliberate in his technique – and landed on a pine-needle littered slope choked with stones and rocks of all different sizes. posed on one particularly flat, shelf-like rock was a pyramid of carefully stacked stones, and in his beak a golden pebble was clutched. the world may have never been privy to the knowledge of where he'd found the precious mineral – and he certainly did not invest much value in the thing – he was just really interested in carrying shiny things in his mouth. it made him feel pretty.

hopping gallantly over to his cache, he looked over the array in pensive rumination, turning over in his mind the most ideal place for the newest – and specialest – addition. around the tower he bobbed, tilting head movements and gentle warbling thrumming in his breast. and then.... EUREKA! he looked to the peak of his taloncrafted mountain and it suddenly felt like the right and obvious place for his aureate find.

so it was there he placed it. flitting backwards to behold his grand structure he puffed up and crooned with a feeling of accomplishment working on each of his senses, the crown dazzling upon of the bust.