“This grandpa doesn’t care anymore, going on strike! During the following few days, my beautiful feathers have been continuously abused. If this continues, I am going to age prematurely and lose the prime of my life!” The big red bird had already flowed for several days, tired to the point of wilting. It was going to go on strike.
“I just fed you a spirit medicine. Now, if we stew you, it would be just like chicken and mushrooms. It would be a mountain and field delicacy,” threatened the little guy.
“Then just stew! I’ve already died a hundred times over, it’ll at least save me from suffering.” The big red bird was like a dead pig that wasn’t afraid of boiling water. It realized that this savage child wasn’t really going to eat it, because he still needed it for transportation.
“You really aren’t going to move?!” The little guy grinded his teeth, beginning to madly pull out its hairs. Scarlet feathers danced in the air, falling like rain.
