Was it really worth the energy, Manfred wondered, as he stood over the carcass of the now dissected raven laying on his kitchen counter, perhaps it would have been better to just research bird anatomy from a book? Of course, it was a bit late for that, and he did like the feeling that accuracy was guaranteed, though his protagonist probably shouldn't have a bullet in her chest, as he didn't want to completely traumatize his granddaughter, tempting though the idea might be.

He wondered whether children were interested in violence, if his childhood spoke to anything, the answer was a resounding yes, but he had to admit, he wasn't exactly a normal child. He briefly considered looking it up, but waved away the idea. He would never admit to such a flaw as not understanding anything about children, especially after allegedly raising three, even to the internet. He shook his head, and was about to wash the raven blood from his hands when he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Due to perhaps a lapse in judgment, he found himself opening the door on a tired-looking door-to-door salesman, who recoiled upon seeing the viscous hemoglobin dripping off his hands.

"What do you want?"

"I-I came here to ask if..." The man trails off, still staring at the blood all over Manfred's hands

"Well, spit is out man!" Manfred snapped, a bit annoyed at the interruption, and also minorly concerned with the expression of panic on the man's face, he really didn't feel like being taken in for questioning for the fourth time this month, and the man looked like he might faint or call the police at any moment.

"I..."

"For heaven's sake, I'm a busy man"

"Is that blood?"

Manfred sighed. His day was about to get much longer, and most likely, much more irritating.

"Yes."

The man clearly had hoped for a different answer, or at least some sort of explanation, but on receiving neither he summoned all his courage and continued,

"Where did it come from?"

"Not me."

Perhaps this was not the best answer that he could have come up with, as it did nothing to defuse the rapidly building situation. The salesman's eyes seemed to be trying to secede from his skull, and his breath was coming in short, desperate gasps and he was shuffling away from the door with little anxious steps.

"I know what you're thinking, and yes, there is a mutilated corpse on my kitchen table right now, but-"

"What?!" The man screamed, he was in a full-blown panic now, but rooted to the spot in terror. "I-I'm just going to leave now; I won't tell anybody...I swear" He turned and bolted from the front step.

"It's not a human corpse!" Manfred shouted after him, though he didn't seem to be listening, "I just shot a raven in a residential district with an unlicensed firearm, brought it home, and dissected it for the purpose of children's literature!" He grimaced, the honesty in what he had just said shocked him.

"I lie. all the time." He muttered to himself, "I commit literal felonies, every day at work. I have gotten people put to death for crimes they did not commit, but when it comes to telling a little lie to a door-to-door salesman, suddenly it's time for scrupulous honesty."

He closed his front door and went to go wash his hands, grumbling about the pending arrest he likely just acquired. Odds were pretty good at this point that he was going to be spending a couple of days in detention at the precinct until he could threaten a few fools to let him out. This was going to be quite inconvenient for his writing endeavors.