“I forgive you, Mouton Blanc.  How can you understand beauty if you’ve never come across it?  For you, torture, would be to look in a mirror and face the ugly truth.  But there’s no one to show you what you look like, what you are about, the true and sincere ugliness that is reflected from and within you.”

“It takes one to know one.”

“You’re alone, isolated like no other.  All alone.  No one here to share your deepest concerns, that of the sheer disgust you inspire.  Fact is, Mouton Blanc: you’re ugliest as can be, you’ve never—“

“—I’m not alone.  I don’t feel alone.”

“There’s a difference.  Where are your peers?”

“We could have been friends you and I—“

“—don’t try this on me.  You’ve never seen or never had any, huh?  They’d be too scared to look at you.  They’d flee.  Your mother abandoned you.”

“How do you know?”

“Abandoned you to your own fate.  As soon as she first laid eyes on you, you repulsed her.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you remember her at all?”

“You’re a goddam fussy, insignificant and dickless ball of tangled feathers with an incoherent demon between your ears.”

This is when Labaguette chooses to fly off to Captain Traumatic’s cabin and, in a flash, comes back holding a mirror in his beak.

The fact is that there’s more than one ruffled feather in Labaguette’s body and soul: there’s an ego fuming, a pressing need for justice as seen from the eyes of a demented parrot.  This creature is ugly, stupid and has been holding them prisoners for no reason the parrot thinks, except for its need for company and control.  It deserves a lesson it will never forget.

To be continued…


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