Poem: Boxing Day Vulture by Tourettes

He nestled amongst the wrapping paper
Although its sex was undermined
It had been decided it was a he by all concerned
“Look at that filthy fucking animal” said A
B shifted uncomfortably
“Oh don’t say that in front of the child”
“I’ll bet my left testicle it has lice” A continued
The vulture stretched its wings
Knocking a decoration of the browning Christmas tree
The vulture had been a gift for C
It came in a brown box with the words
“Instant animal just add water”
Written in messy hand writing on the side
“It likes it” B said pointing at C
A finished his beer
“That fucking child doesn’t have the sense god gave a mule”
C watched the bird as it proceed to eat the decoration
It reached out and stroked the course feathers on its back
The creature shrieked
And bit the Childs hand
“That’s it” bellowed A rushing out of the room
He returned with the axe B had given him two Christmases past
The bird watched him with dodo survival logic
Rattling around his black eyes
A brought the axe down on the creature
Over and over again
Until the gift was reduced to a mushy paste
Tears washed the shock off C’s face
“Look what you’ve done” B said picking up the screaming child and carrying him out of the room
“It needs to harden up anyway” A said opening another beer