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I woke up in a maze.

 

“What the frak?” I muttered silently and quietly to myself. I reached my humanly fleshy arm up to scratch the top of the tip of my head, but I found that my fleshy hand was now a feathery wing, covered in feathers. “What the FRAK?!”

 

I looked down at the rest of my body, which my head was connected to. The rest of me was covered in a down of feathers as well! “FRAK!” I squawked. My beak clacked as it snapped back together after I opened it to squawk.

 

I looked around me at the maze surrounding me. It all seemed familiar to me somehow, like I'd seen it all before. These walls, the ceiling, the floor, the walls... They felt like home to me. However, I soon determined that the walls were not made of twigs that came from trees, and I let out a silent sigh of breathe from my mouth, emptying my lungs of air in the process. Each air molecule escaped my lungs in a fierce battle, CO2 vs. oxygen in the surrounding air. I breathed in, and the oxygen was quickly sucked in, only to be converted to the enemy carbon dioxide who they had just valiantly fought bravely against.

 

I followed the familiar but not very familiar walls to a clear window. However, it wasn't really clear or a window – it was some kind of frakking transludescendant panel made of glass which is sand that's just heavily heated at high temperatures. Then some other sh*t happened.

 

 

I woke up in a maze.

 

I woke up in a hospital.

 

“Survival rates are optimum – test subject has a 30% chance of waking up.”

 

I woke up, and 30 seconds later, passed out again.

 

“Told you.” One doctor handed the other a couple dollars.

 

I woke up on the lawn.

 

I looked around. I was stark naked, with no clothes on. I looked around myself. There was grass growing on the lawn, and it was green. As green as the emerald eyes of my mother, who died when I was born... I felt a tear glistening in my eye, which was as emerald as my mother's eyes, except a little darker and more brown than green. A single tear rolled down my cheek from my brown eyes, slipping quickly off of my chin, which I couldn't grow any facial hair on.

 

I stood up on the grass-covered lawn, feeling each individual blade of grass, full of life, beneath my hands... but they weren't hands. They were wings. Covered in feathers. My feathers. On my arms. My wings. Covered with feathers.

 

I stood up, and the world wobbled around me. I was dizzy and wobbly, and I fell down on the grass again. I pushed myself up on my feathery wings, and tried walking around a bit. My claws kept getting stuck in the ground. Those fearsome claws, made to rip and tear through the flesh of prey, to rip its eyes out and tear out its ears and eyes, these fearsome claws were dangerous. They were sharply hooked at the end, with the end of the talon being very, very sharp. If I wanted, I could fly over to a mouse and shred it apart with my talons. That's how sharp they are.

 

I looked over and saw a man running a lawn mower. He headed toward a Pidgeotto that seemed to be enjoying bondage, as it was writhing about on the ground tied up by a nearby Ivysaur's vines. However, instead of giggling in delight, the Pidgeotto was screaming. I suppose some people just have weird fetishes.

 

“Oh no!” a trainer nearby shouted. I guess he was the Pidgeotto's owner. He tried to return the Pidgeotto to its Pokeball, but the ball simply exploded into a hundred pieces in his hands. He fell to his knees and began crying like a little bitch. The Pidgeotto turned to its trainer and gave a slow wink, as if to say, “I know what you did to me while I was asleep, and I enjoyed it very much.”

 

The man in the lawn mower, wearing glasses for blind people, continued whistling as he ran over the Pidgeotto. A splatter of blood spurted across the trainer's face as the Pidgeotto became KFC's next victim. The Pidgeotto stood no chance. Red goosh gushed everywhere as the Pidgeotto slowly died quickly. While this would normally have been horrifying to watch, it was somehow rather hilarious in detail. But whatever, I'm just a stupid little bird. A chicken, almost.

 

Ironically, I am known as the “butcher bird”.