The Fourth wall breaking of DEADPOOL meets JANE AUSTEN meets MAGICAL WEIRDNESS
When a mysterious new boy comes to town, seventeen-year-old odd ball, Peneloper Auttsley, must confront the secrets of her past in order to save her present.
...
Full disclosure: I hate birds, crows most of all. They are constantly squawking, parasite-ridden pests, that no matter how many scarecrows I erect in my roof-top garden, insist on perching on my tomato plants, and pecking the fruits just for the hell of it.
Crispen's bird companion is not unlike those tormenting my garden and I feel a similar disregard for it. For the sake of unbiased narration, I will persevere to give you as honest a recounting of this part as I am able.
Peneloper rushes to her window, undoes the latch and slides back the pane and screen providing what she believes is enough room to let the blackbird inside.
It is not enough, though because the bird is fat. Twice the size of other crows, he must retract his wings, lower his beak, and squeeze through. The screen is torn as a result of his added weight, a direct result of being raised on a diet rich in peach slices, breadcrumbs, and pocket birdseed. Even its parasites are on the heavier side.
Anyway, the chubby crow glides from window ledge to floor, its beady eyes cataloging the things in Peneloper's room. He is disgusted by the piles of dirty clothes and crumpled papers, the overflowing trash baskets, and the grim-stained mirror. The smell, of things he can't quite place, burns his beakholes. Being that he is a crow, however, and, in turn, no more than a flying rat, his opinions on the subject matter little.
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• Squonk•
"Your room is a disaster." After stating the obvious, the bird dug its talons into Peneloper's favorite pillow, spearing the picture of Nick Cage in the eye. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think ravens nested here."
She plopped down beside him, reclaiming the pillow for herself. "That an insult?"
The bird heaved a sigh. "If you had your wits about you, you'd be very offended. Devastated even. Ravens are the most detestable birds." Shoving its beak into the crux of its left wing, the bird set about preening itself at leisure. No immediacy or urgency present. Time, which he'd exclaimed was not on Peneloper's side, marching on as the bird chewed on its feathers. It, every bit of a contradiction as was its owner.
Peneloper frowned. "Try not getting your parasites on my pillows."
The bird snorted. "My parasites are no grosser than the skin flakes your kind sheds everywhere. You're the appalling creature, not I."
"You've come to insult me, then?" Peneloper harrumphed. "So, that's to be the nature of this exchange?"
The bird hopped to attention; its black eyes narrowed. "Why no! How could you even think that?"
"Because you've set about making my room your grooming nest," she began, "your manner is absent of the urgency you spoke of previously, you've taken to insulting me pretty regularly—" The bird held up its wing, ending her mid-rant.
