Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be
able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended
now for tonights micro terror.
Speaker 2: The Buffest Bird Around by Scott Donnelly. It all started
with a bird's nest, and had I known, it would
have ended with my house being destroyed, my mom going deaf,
my dad unconscious, and me covered in well. There was
no way any of that could have been predicted. Let
me start at the beginning. It was a normal run
of the mill spring morning. I woke up excited for
the Saturday that lay ahead of me, riding bikes, playing
catch or tag with friends. We had all day ahead
of us, all weekend. In fact, the weather was warming up,
the smell of fresh cut grass filled the air, and
the gentle chirps of birds staying outside my window. I
lifted the sash to where a tree grew on our
front yard, and blocked most of my view of our street.
I saw that one of the branches within arm's reach
had a bird's nest on it, well, one in progress.
It was just starting out. I thought it would be
kind of cool to have a little tiny bird neighbor
chirping at my window every morning. Well within a couple
of days, the nest was nearly complete. That's when my
mom saw it. We can't have that thing out there,
she said, without much reason. Then she recruited my dad
to knock it off the branch. As much of a
fight as I tried to put up about it, I lost.
My dad took a broom and swept the nest off
the branch.
Speaker 1: I watched it.
Speaker 2: Fall in slow motion all the way to the ground,
where it splintered into a mess of twigs and grass.
I cried for hours that day. I really wanted that
bird neighbor. The next morning, when I woke up, I
was shocked to see the start of another nest. I
smiled huge when I saw the same bird building it.
I tapped on the glass and said, hey, welcome back.
The bird stopped what it was doing its head toward me.
It stared me down, gawked at me and then chirped
before returning to its work. I got the sense that
somehow it felt frustration toward me. I wish I could
have told it that it wasn't me who knocked its
nest down, it was my dad. At my mom's request,
I decided to pull my curtains shut and just hope
my mom didn't see it this time. However, that only
lasted about a day before my mom complained that you're
living in gloom. You're not a teenager yet. We need
to open up the curtains. Let the sun shine. Mom no,
I shouted as she ripped the curtains apart, and there
sitting on the branch was the nest. A moment later,
the bird flew in with a new blade of grass
and weaved it neatly in. When the bird lifted its head,
it stared at my mom with his beak wide open.
My mom's mouth was wide open too. She was shocked
the bird would have the audacity to return. After the brooming,
my dad unleashed Harold. My mom shouted, storming out of
the room and calling for my dad and his broom
to return to action. I just looked at the bird
with sad eyes. But the bird still didn't think I
was innocent in any of this. It dipped its brow
and glared at me. It chirped again, but this time
the chirps were deeper. My dad came in with the
broom and opened the window. The bird flew away as
my dad swept the branch clean of the nest again.
A week went by before the bird returned. I was
doing homework when I heard a soft, innocent chirp outside
my window. I looked up and saw the bird sitting
on the branch. It looked a little bigger than I
remembered it, but I wasn't sure how birds grew, so
I just assumed it was normal and natural. I smiled
and rushed to the window to greet the bird and
plead my case. Dude, I'm so sorry, I said to
the bird. It's my parents, not me. I'm telling you
the truth. The bird chirped again its head and then
hopped in a circle until its back was facing me.
I squinted, not sure what it was doing, but then,
without warning, it initiated its plan of action, and I
found myself covered in its gooey white.
Speaker 1: Droppings.
Speaker 2: Oh, I shouted, stumbling back into my room and collapsing
on the floor. My mom rushed in and saw me
lying there, absolutely covered in the bird stuff. My word,
she yelled, Harold, get some rooms. The brooms weren't going
to help this time. There was no nest, and the
bird took off like a rocket, leaving a gooey trail behind.
My dad didn't disappoint, though, He exploded into my room
with a broom at each hand and a look of
confusion on his face. Once the insanity had subsided and
I had time to shower and comprehend what happened, I
just leaned on the windowsill, wandering about the bird. I
felt horrible for it and wanted to so badly tell
it that it wasn't me who didn't want it there.
That's when I saw something odd stuffed in the bushy
leaves of the tree. I used a hockey stick to
fish it out and drag it close enough to reach.
It was a book with a bird on the cover,
holding out a bizarrely muscular wing. It was called buff
Up and Get the Revenge You've Always Desired by Talan Lark.
I flipped the book over and just under the synopsis,
which described buffing up to Get Revenge was a picture
of the author, Talan Lark, and to my utter shock,
it was just a headshot of a bird. Another week
went by, my dad had installed security cameras outside my window.
I knew the bird was too smart to fall for them.
There was actually a chapter in the book about avoiding
detection on revenge missions, so if the bird had read it,
which was my working theory, then I definitely wouldn't have
shown up at my window again. It would find some
other way, and that night it did. My mom, dad,
and I were sitting around the dinner table eating hamburgers
and tater tots. I'd used the last of the ketchup
and needed some more. My dad, happily, in a false
sense of security, offered to get it for me. He
went to the fridge and opened it. Then he stopped.
What is it, Harold, My mom asked him. Sh My
dad hushed her. He heard something. My mom and I
both went quiet as well. Then we heard it too,
a knock at the front door. My dad reached into
the pantry and grabbed a broom, then crept toward the
front door. My mom rolled her eyes at him, Why
do you need a broom? That was a knock, Harold,
not a chirp. Birds chirp, they don't knock. Sickening feeling
swirled around inside my stomach. Birds could knock if they
were big and buff enough, I thought, But that was impossible,
right my dad opened the door and was immediately punched
with such force that he flew back through the house
like a rocket, blazing past in a blur, knocking my
burger and tots onto the floor, and crashed out the
back wall and into the backyard. Harold, my mom yelled,
jumping through the hole in the house to help my dad.
I stood up and rushed to the front door to
see what in the world just happened. Somehow I expected
to see the bird, but not like this. It was
the size of a man, larger than my dad. It
was buffed up, probably the buffest bird you can imagine,
like if the Rock or John Cena were covered in
feathers that had beaks. Sure, kid, the bird said, in
a deep, weird voice. I was stunned. It had learned
to speak too. You want to mess with my nest,
the bird said, Well, dou can play that game?
Speaker 1: Two can?
Speaker 2: I said, uh, pun, you tell jokes too. The bird
winked at me. I think you'd be pheasantly surprised. What
followed next was an onslaught of bird induced horror on
my home, my nest. The bird tore apart our furniture,
pecked my dad's arsenal of brooms to death until they
were nothing but sharp splinters and loose bristles. It ate
all of our food, turned our clocks back, pummeled my
dad into a state of unconsciousness, squawked into my mom's
ears until her ear drums burst, clogged our toilets, and
finally regurgitated worms all over me. We never saw the
bird again after that. When it left, strutting out the
front door in which it came, I wasn't sure what
to think. I mean, what would you think? What would
you do if the buffest bird around throttled your family
and uprooted your house? Nothing prepares you for something like that.
Coming up next week on micro Terrors Scary Stories for Kids,
we have a brand new listener terrorist episode with five
creepy new stories from our young creative listeners. You don't
want to miss them. Hey, at a special note for
you micro terror listeners, do you like stories about flying corn?
Bugs with sharp teeth that turn people into larger versions
of corn. Bugs with sharp teeth. Well, then Swarm of
Corn would be right up your alley. Swarm of Corn
is a micro Terrors fan Club exclusive novelette available to
Spooky and Terrified Tier members. If you're at the Spooky Tear,
you'll get a PDF download of the book. If you're
at the Terrified Tier, you'll get a paperback copy of
the book. If you're not a member yet but are interested,
it's not too late. Head on over to micro terrors
dot com for more information, and while you're there, check
out our merch store and sign up for the monthly newsletter.
I'm your narrator, Darren Marler. Thank you all for being
such dedicated micro Terrors listeners. See you next Saturday. Chirp,
chirp kid.
Speaker 1: Hey I'm not that kid. I didn't do it. Thank
you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday
for another scary story. For more fun, visit our website
at microterrors dot com, where you can get the latest
micro Terrors news, read fun facts about each story, sign
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Microterrors Scary Stories for Kids.