UPDATE ON GERALD AND THE CROW SITUATION: Things have escalated. I repeat. THINGS HAVE FUCKING ESCALATED. For those of you just joining us, yesterday I accidentally entered into diplomatic relations with a gang of crows after Gerald stole my good spoon. Well. This morning I walked outside and Gerald was waiting for me. Alone. Standing directly in the middle of my driveway. No screaming. No hopping around. Just staring at me like a tiny feathered loan shark who had come to collect. I said, “Morning, Gerald.” He tilted his head. I gave him a walnut. He did not eat it. Instead, this motherfucker picked it up, walked three steps to the left, PUT IT DOWN, and stared at me again. Message received. The offering was insufficient. So I went back inside and got more walnuts. When I returned… THERE WERE NINE CROWS. Nine. Yesterday there were seven. Gerald is fucking recruiting. And they were arranged in a SEMICIRCLE. This isn’t a bird friendship anymore. I’m funding organized crime. I distributed the walnuts because apparently I pay protection money now. Everything seemed fine until one of the smaller crows tried taking two. Gerald immediately screamed at him. The little one dropped the second walnut. I have accidentally created an economy. Gerald controls distribution. There’s a hierarchy. There are consequences. I’m pretty sure I witnessed a disciplinary hearing before breakfast. Then Gerald flew away. I thought we were done. WE WERE NOT DONE. Twenty minutes later I looked outside and there was something sitting where Gerald had been standing. A bottle cap. A shiny rock. And… MY FUCKING SPOON. HE RETURNED THE SPOON. Ladies and gentlemen. I believe we have successfully negotiated a trade agreement. Unfortunately, there is now a crow sitting on my mailbox. So I still cannot get my fucking mail. I tried approaching. He puffed up. I backed away. That mailbox belongs to the organization now. At this point I’m just a tenant. Anyway, Gerald has officially been promoted to General Gerald, Commander of the Driveway, First of His Name, Keeper of the Good Spoon, Lord of the Power Line, Collector of Walnuts, and Regional Manager of Whatever The Fuck Is Happening Here. I’ll keep everyone updated. But if I suddenly stop posting… Gerald found out I told you.

GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART I: THE WITNESS As promised, my favorite little creatures, you get two Gerald updates today due to a power outage and my working until 10 PM which quite rudely interfered with the increasingly concerning political development between myself and the flock of organized criminals. And unfortunately... While I was busy dealing with the collapse of modern civilization... Gerald was busy. Now there is something I haven't told you about this story that I now feel was vital information being missed. From the very start of this situation.. we've had a witness. Kitten. My best friend. My confidant. And, apparently, the world's least subtle crow conspiracy theorist. Every meeting between Gerald and I? She's been in the shadows watching. The nut negotiations. The Good Spoon Incident. The underworld factions institutionalization of a black market run by the city's worst Crows. The power-line surveillancing. My coronation into Kingly duties. Gerald's promotion ceremony to General. She was here for it it all. And while the rest of you have been watching this relationship blossom into whatever deeply concerning interspecies military alliance it has become... Kitten has remained suspicious. In fact, she's been publicly warning me. "Gerald has it out for you." "He's plotting something." "You're going to take the fall for whatever he's planning." Naturally, I ignored these concerns, because we are here for the plot development. Gerald is MY General. I am HIS King. We have bonded. Our communications are primarily through humming and prolonged eye contact and head nodding. Trust has been entrenched. This morning, however... Kitten didn't message me...she didn't call me...NOT. A. PEEP. Odd. But not entirely alarming. She does have a life outside of just me. Noon came and still... Nothing. I messaged her. No response. ....Interesting.... Concurrently, Gerald was behaving completely normal. And by "normal," I mean siting on my tree staring through my fucking window. "Morning, General." Hmmm. "Have you seen Kitten?" ... Gerald looked left. Then he looked right. Then directly at me. Hmmm. Suspicious. Suspicious indeed. Before I could give him the third degree, he flew away. Then I noticed something on my porch. There was an object sitting there. A shiny object. So obviously I walked over. It was a key. A tiny fucking key. Next to it sat a note. Now, I don't know how Gerald learned to write. I'm choosing to ignore that particular piece of the lore. I already have enough issues. The note said: TAKE THE KEY. So naturally... I took the fucking key. I KNOW. I KNOW. I CAN ALREADY HEAR YOU ALL SCREAMING. "Bexx, maybe don't blindly follow directions left by a crow who commands a small, but vast militia." Would be excellent advice on your part. Would've also been incredibly useful upwards of thirty seconds earlier. Because the INSTANT I picked it up... sirens. Somewhere nearby. Gerald sat upon on the power line. Then another crow. Then another. Then another. Within seconds the entire fucking army had formed. All staring at me. I looked toward Gerald. Gerald looked toward me. "Gerald..." Hmmm. "What have you done?" He slowly turned his head away. THAT FEATHERED MOTHERFUCKER! Kitten was right. I should have been more weary to listen. GERALD WAS INDEED PLANNING SOMETHING. AND I WAS TAKING THE FALL. I started toward him. "GERALD!" He flew. I followed. Because apparently dignity left my sense of being several chapters ago. I walked through the yard. Climbed over the fence. Trudged behind the shed. And went directly into the woods. Every couple of yards another crow appeared, guiding me further along. Go Left. Go Right. Go Straight. Take another left. Finally... I have come to a door. An actual fucking door. Built into the side of a hill. I stood there staring at it. Gerald landed beside me. "You have a fucking dungeon?" Hmmm. Of course he would. Silly of me to have questioned him. I placed the tiny key into the lock. It fit. Apparently this is my life now. The door opens. Darkness. Cobbled stairs. Torches. FUCKING TORCHES. Gerald has electricity figured out well enough to sabotage mine but chooses TORCHES for an ambient affect. I walked down the cobbled stairs. "Kitten?" Silence. And then... from deep inside the darkness somewhere: "I TOLD YOU GERALD WAS FUCKING EVIL." Oh. My. God. I sprinted toward the voice. And there she was. Behind iron-clad bars. Her hair disheveled looking. Clothes tattered. She is absolutely furious. And pointing at Gerald, who had casually followed behind me. "YOUR FUCKING BIRD KIDNAPPED ME!" "He is not my bird." "HE NAMED YOU KING!" Valid. Gerald flew onto a nearby table. Kitten glared at him. I glared at him. Gerald stared back. Silence. Then... Hmmm. "Don't you fucking 'hmmm' me, Gerald." He nodded toward the cell. And before I could ask what the hell that meant— SLAM. The door to the dungeon behind me closed. I turned around. Another crow stood beside a lever. ... Those clever tiny bastards. I looked towards Kitten. Kitten looked towards me. Then we both looked at Gerald. Gerald puffed his feathers. And then he walked slowly toward us. One tiny, petrifying step at a time. Whatever Gerald had planned... we are officially part of it now. And somewhere above us... the entire crow army began bellowing. END PART I.