I feel stupid.

Vegetables are stupid.

For as long as I live, that crime against all things yummy shall never occur again.

I had a feeling that something was off when Bartlon said that he didn't like fruits or berries, even when he said they're supposed to taste sweet! I should've trusted my instincts! Who doesn't like sweet things? Is that even possible? Sweet is the best! How can you not enjoy sweets? There must be something wrong with you if you don't like sweet things.

If I had of used just a small fraction of my genius, I would've been able to guess that Bartlon's favorite foods would taste disgusting, that is, the opposite of sweet and sugary. The hints were there, I just wasn't paying attention. This terrible belly ache could've been avoided, but noooo, my appetite got the best of me. Blerrgh, just thinking about those dry, mushy, starchy and flavorless potatoes makes me want to curl up and die. The small piece of pumpkin I tried wasn't much better either! Soggy and yucky! The bright orange appearance tricked me into thinking it would taste nice! After all, I'm partially orange too! And since I get attacked all the time, I must look yummy! But this pumpkin is the opposite of yummy, pumpkin is rotten and squishy.

What a joke. I hate all vegetables now! Every single one! They're just as bad as insects and grubs! I was lucky that the Shaggy Fluff was there to save the day by filling my stomach, because I don't know what I would've done without it!

Starve to death probably.

How can that wrinkly Bartlon eat so much of something so disgusting? I can't make sense of it! He seemed to be overjoyed to take the leftover portions of my vegetables for himself. Is his tongue broken? Are vegetables really edible? Is he fooling me? - Oh great, speaking of the taste-deaf devil...

The sound of Bartlon's feet thumping on the hard-packed, dirt floor signifies another unwelcome break to my moping.

"Ok let's try this one" Bartlon yawns groggily, pulling out a rickety chair from beneath the table I'm laying on and sitting in front of me.

I open one eye and stare at him, not moving an inch of my splayed out body.

Bartlon obliviously ignores my silent protest and pushes towards my beak, a small, brown belt-looking thing made from what he says is Timber Wolf pelt, but I know it's the Shaggy Fluff's - fluff. He then points to a random place on the mini-pouch laced multiple stitches and begins remarking about how he either 'tightened it up, loosened it up, or blah blah blah', I stopped listening after the 9th time he made me try to wear it.

Pffffttt, 15 minutes he said.

"Can you please sit up a little more? I can't put it on when you're laying down" he asks in a tired, sleepy voice. "This time I swear it will fit. I also used softer pelt for the backside and I trimmed some more from the sides...*yawn*... so it shouldn't touch your wings at all. Here" he says, nudging the abomination of stitches into my side.

I stretch out the sound of me exhaling over several seconds before sitting up and flourishing my wings to the side. Does this make the 100th time? Why? Despite living in such a messy house, he seems shockingly dedicated to making my pouch perfect, always changing the tiniest detail before coming back to me. Golly gosh, it doesn't need to be perfect! Just light enough for me to fly with, which it already is! Couldn't we just wait until the morning to finish? I'm sleepy too! Golly gosh.

With the upmost care, Bartlon slips the pouch's wide wing-holes over my half folded wings and secures it on my belly with a single, hidden, bone button on the inside. As he does this, I watch his face like a hawk and enjoy all the different ways his wrinkles contort when he pushes my wings around, probably worried about hurting me. Which is funny! A petty revenge for me!

Bartlon leans back on his chair and gives me a nod. "How's it this time? Good right?" he grins halfheartedly while fighting back another yawn.

I flap my wings and huff.

Oh yay! It really doesn't touch my wings this time! That's amazing! I absolutely hate it when it touches my wings. As for whether the back fluff feels any softer or not, I can't tell, but the fact that I can flap freely without bumping my feathers on the sides of the pouch it great! He actually managed to fix it!

Now for the flight test! Hopefully nothing has changed!

I march to the edge of the table and jump off with my wings outstretched, gliding down to the dirt floor at a semi-safe speed and landing heavily on my talons. Exactly the same as the several previous tests. Then, I spin around and flap my way back up the table. Which takes considerably more time and energy to accomplish, but still within reason. *Within the reason of someone who really wants to have a pouch* "Yup! This is the best so far!" I chirp excitedly, admiring and the little pouch underneath my beak.

It's still kinda heavy so I need to flap a little harder, but the prospect of portable food makes it worth the effort! That also gives me more motivation to level up some more. Strength and Dexterity should help with flying!

A loud clap suddenly sounds from beside me and I jerk around to see Bartlon, still sitting on the wooden seat as he was before, but with his palms clasped together. "Great!" he says, standing up and pushing his chair back in with his leg "Then I'm going to sleep" Bartlon declares loudly as he wobbles to his bed located in the corner of his house where he soon collapses like a sack of potatoes. Something I had the pleasure of witnessing right before dinner when Bartlon clumsily dropped a sack of those filthy, inedible potatoes on the floor in his haste to start cooking.

"Ok Bartlon" I say, a little spooked by the unexpected clap.

Snores begin to rumble throughout the entire foundation of the tiny shack mere moments after Bartlon's wrinkly eyelids close shut. Leaving me all alone. Abandoned on a depressing wooden table with nothing other than a single candle flickering on a stand on the wall to keep me company through the lonely night. A candle that doesn't look to have much life in it, barely a spluttering stub of dripping wax, soon to burn itself out.

Such a tiresome day. Bartlon can be a bit of a handful at times, but it's thanks to him that I have a pouch now, so I guess he can be forgiven!

I know it isn't a perfect pouch by any means. In some places, it may be a little ugly, and in most places, it may smell like the Shaggy Fluff, but overall, in every place, it's super soft, which is the most important thing to me! That and it can also hold seeds for me to eat at my leisure! Muuhaha! I'm such a genius! The smartest! I can't wait to put it to use! Although... it wouldn't hurt to leave it until the morning, I'm too tired for a joy flight right now.

I just gotta find a nice, quite place to lay down and rest. Somewhere not like the top of this hard, splintery wooden table or this dusty, grimy floor. Somewhere I can't hear a certain someone snoring loud enough to shake the walls! How does he sleep through his own racket?! No wonder he lives in the forest alone! Gosh golly, it looks like I'll need to sleep outside again. It shouldn't be too hard to fly up a tree without using Cinders, but now that I think about it, wouldn't a tree be uncomfortable too? The table I'm sitting on, and the trees outside are almost the same thing!

Gosh.

I'm just going to sleep on the roof, I can't be bothered stressing about where to sleep. The roof should be soft enough. That'll do.

Hmmm.

It feels like I've forgotten something.

Something kinda important.

Oh well. Sleep first.