Raconteur (noun): a talented storyteller

The little green bird ate too much salt.

It had landed by a movie theater earlier and feasted upon the exploded corn on the ground. Some other birds were there, and they seemed to love it.

There was a lot of people streaming into the theater that day. The little bird thought it was strange, for it was a perfectly sunny day, and not one for hiding away inside for hours.

It wasn’t just the movies, either. Many people were crowding in a smaller room, full of ageless books and fantastic tomes. The bird had flown inside to investigate, and it found that the people were looking for… themselves.

The small people visited stories of other small people. The taller people visited tales of other tall people. They must’ve discovered a familiar part of themselves in the stories they watched.

Huh. Was that the key to being a good storyteller? Burying a piece of yourself in it, and letting others find it?

Then, what did the little green bird put into its stories?

As it uncomfortably tried to banish the aftertaste of salt, the little bird felt a creeping sensation. A normal bird would find these stories boring. And, it would enjoy the taste of popcorn.