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Christmas is the pits. That's right, you heard me.
Worst time of the year.
If you can just hold on for a minute I'll tell you why. The more you hear me out then you'll realize that I'm right.
To begin with, what's the big deal about Christmas? Everybody always gets so stressed out. It's supposed to be a time for fun and laughter and creating lasting memories with family and friends. After that comes peace and harmony, love and understanding and all of that other nonsense. Naturally, the boatloads of presents are what matter the most. But I just don't get it.
Maybe it's because I'm a Pteranodon.
If it were up to me we'd charge ahead from Thanksgiving and blaze into New Year's Day and leave December choking in the dust.
There's just too much going on and not enough time left for the meaningful things, like lying around and doing nothing.
It all starts at Halloween.
Some of the costumes are a bit scary for me, but the candy part is definitely the highlight. I try my damndest to run off as many of the kids as possible by screaming as loud as I can, but I always wind up getting put in that miserable nest with the door shut.
Treated like an outcast in my own house, rather rude if you ask me.
My game plan each year is to terrorize the kids so they high tail it away from the bowl of candy before they reach the front door to leave.
It's a simple strategy, less kids means more candy for me.
Somehow, it never seems to work.
But enough Halloween talk, I'm here to whine about the holiday season, specifically Christmas Day.
I can deal with November.
Actually, the first two weeks of the month can be quite gorgeous here in Wales with bright and warm afternoons livening up the time I get to go out and play in the clouds.
There are always plenty of sheep to eat.
A word of caution though if you ever get hungry: brown sheeps just aren't nearly as tasty as the white ones.
Once Thanksgiving week rolls around the weather starts to turn and sometimes it can get downright cold. That's also when the busy season starts and my attitude heads south along with the birds.
Thanksgiving Day can be a good or bad day, it all depends if there's anyone here at the aviary.
If the family gets invited to head over to pig out at one of the human boxes they call restaurants, then I'm screwed. No gourmet meal with the trimmings for me, just the same old drab food.
But when they stay here and fire up a feast there's plenty to chow down on. My boy usually cooks me two big ones, one still hot. I sleep enough as it is, but wow, that tryptophan in the turkey knocks me out even twice as long.
The more I think about it, I'm done after dinner until Black Friday morning.
So how can I be a smart enough to know about something like Black Friday?
It all comes down to one thing - cable TV, the Wikipedia of human weirdness.
Ask me anything about news, sports, fashion, weather, celebrity gossip, World War II history. Oh, I can't leave out food. Yep, I've got all the answers to everything. If all you only did when you're awake is sit in front of the television, walk around the nest, fly in the clouds and, of course, eat, you'd have plenty of time for home schooling. I can tell you whatever you need to know. Of course I'm speaking hypothetically; I can't give you any of the answers because I can't talk. You'll just have to go along with me on this. If you're wondering how I'm able to sound so educated, you would be too if you spent countless hours watching reality television, the backbone of higher learning.
Some of us winged things are actually smarter than we seem and some of us are dumber than we look.
Now that I've got all of that out of the way I can go into my tirade about Christmas Day. And, by the way, since I'm airing my grievances I should add that Christmas Eve isn't much better.
The season itself isn't so bad, it's those two days that really chap my ass. I know what I said before about doing away with the whole month of December, but since this is my story I should have the right to mangle it if I want to.
So, to start at the beginning, I live with the Torchwood Team. For security reasons, I can't reveal the name of the town. That's not really true; I just said that to make you think we're more important than we really are.
JAck and Ianto run the place.
Owen's the oldest chick, he's supposed to be their healer or something and goes to Moron State. Not the fastest piston in the engine, but he treats me well.
Toshiko is calmer and less inclined to make shrill shrieking noises than Owen usually does and there's more hope for her.
She's quite thin and attractive and does something involving a box or a wriggly wire thing, I'm not sure which.
Gwen has only been here a couple of years and I am still not sure about her as Ianto seems nervous. I think we adopted her or something, just a bit late.
I guess in adult speak she was a 'mistake', if you know what I mean. Jack likes to collect things and put her in hispocket. Ianto is still trying to work out how to persuade him to put her back where he got her but I can already ee his pouting means he wants to keep her.
Well, she did follow him home I suppose.
Ianto will give in.
He has a thing for lost waifs too. You see he found me as young one in an empty box, one of their box ones over at the docks, barely a mile from here.
He said I was special and stood out from the crowd. He told me I was beautiful. I knew in that moment he was going to keep me.
I'm lucky to have such a good brood to live with. Of course, there are areas of improvement I've identified for each of them, but since I can't write or talk, the odds of getting my recommended changes implemented are nonexistent.
For me, as long as I don't shit on the boxes they sit at I'm meeting standards.
They call me Myfanwy, well Ianto named me and it is a sweet name and I don't think my name can be spoken in their primitive tongue.
I enjoy antiquing, reading romance novels and playing my cherished violin.
Not really, my day primarily consists of flying around in circles.
That's all you need to know about us for now.
I have to return to focus on my outrage about Christmas. The curtain for the first act of the circus always rises when Owen valiantly tries to put up the twinkly lights over Thanksgiving weekend.
Two years ago, he connected all of the cords together, plugged them into one socket and proceeded to blow out sixty dollars worth of decorations. He had to go back to the store and buy several new sets of lights and do it all over again.
Other people are on the lookout for bargain discount prices while Owen manages to double the cost of his purchases. Edison would have been proud.
Another blunder takes place each year when the wreath is mounted on the Tourist Office door.
Owen always forgets to make sure it's securely attached to the hook. The first time a visitor doesn't ring the doorbell and tries to knock, the wreath goes crashing down onto the front porch cement floor. At this point, it looks like it's been put through a paper shredder.
After she starts feeling sorry for the little troll Tosh is hard at work getting all of the indoor decorations in place. I've lost track of the number of boxes she brings out of the crawl space. Of course, I can't count so that could be part of the problem.
She seems to really enjoy finding just the right place in every room for the hand crafted ornaments she's collected through the years. By Sunday afternoon, everyone has chipped in to trim the artificial tree and Owen and Gwen have been shoved out the door and are headed back to hunt the leather faced ones, only to return for the coffee later.
Before you know it, Christmas Eve will be here and then the problems begin for me.
This year, I won't let it happen yet again.
This year, I'm out for revenge!