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Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's

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always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine

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tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those

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ages eight and up, and while our stories are for

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younger years, we are still talking about things that go

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bump in the night, and some children may not be

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able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended

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now for tonights micro terror.

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Speaker 2: The Buffest Bird Around by Scott Donnelly. It all started

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with a bird's nest, and had I known, it would

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have ended with my house being destroyed, my mom going deaf,

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my dad unconscious, and me covered in well. There was

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no way any of that could have been predicted. Let

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me start at the beginning. It was a normal run

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of the mill spring morning. I woke up excited for

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the Saturday that lay ahead of me, riding bikes, playing

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catch or tag with friends. We had all day ahead

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of us, all weekend. In fact, the weather was warming up,

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the smell of fresh cut grass filled the air, and

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the gentle chirps of birds staying outside my window. I

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lifted the sash to where a tree grew on our

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front yard, and blocked most of my view of our street.

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I saw that one of the branches within arm's reach

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had a bird's nest on it, well, one in progress.

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It was just starting out. I thought it would be

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kind of cool to have a little tiny bird neighbor

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chirping at my window every morning. Well within a couple

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of days, the nest was nearly complete. That's when my

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mom saw it. We can't have that thing out there,

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she said, without much reason. Then she recruited my dad

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to knock it off the branch. As much of a

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fight as I tried to put up about it, I lost.

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My dad took a broom and swept the nest off

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the branch.

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Speaker 1: I watched it.

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Speaker 2: Fall in slow motion all the way to the ground,

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where it splintered into a mess of twigs and grass.

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I cried for hours that day. I really wanted that

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bird neighbor. The next morning, when I woke up, I

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was shocked to see the start of another nest. I

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smiled huge when I saw the same bird building it.

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I tapped on the glass and said, hey, welcome back.

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The bird stopped what it was doing its head toward me.

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It stared me down, gawked at me and then chirped

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before returning to its work. I got the sense that

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somehow it felt frustration toward me. I wish I could

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have told it that it wasn't me who knocked its

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nest down, it was my dad. At my mom's request,

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I decided to pull my curtains shut and just hope

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my mom didn't see it this time. However, that only

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lasted about a day before my mom complained that you're

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living in gloom. You're not a teenager yet. We need

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to open up the curtains. Let the sun shine. Mom no,

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I shouted as she ripped the curtains apart, and there

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sitting on the branch was the nest. A moment later,

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the bird flew in with a new blade of grass

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and weaved it neatly in. When the bird lifted its head,

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it stared at my mom with his beak wide open.

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My mom's mouth was wide open too. She was shocked

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the bird would have the audacity to return. After the brooming,

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my dad unleashed Harold. My mom shouted, storming out of

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the room and calling for my dad and his broom

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to return to action. I just looked at the bird

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with sad eyes. But the bird still didn't think I

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was innocent in any of this. It dipped its brow

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and glared at me. It chirped again, but this time

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the chirps were deeper. My dad came in with the

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broom and opened the window. The bird flew away as

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my dad swept the branch clean of the nest again.

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A week went by before the bird returned. I was

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doing homework when I heard a soft, innocent chirp outside

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my window. I looked up and saw the bird sitting

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on the branch. It looked a little bigger than I

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remembered it, but I wasn't sure how birds grew, so

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I just assumed it was normal and natural. I smiled

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and rushed to the window to greet the bird and

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plead my case. Dude, I'm so sorry, I said to

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the bird. It's my parents, not me. I'm telling you

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the truth. The bird chirped again its head and then

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hopped in a circle until its back was facing me.

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I squinted, not sure what it was doing, but then,

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without warning, it initiated its plan of action, and I

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found myself covered in its gooey white.

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Speaker 1: Droppings.

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Speaker 2: Oh, I shouted, stumbling back into my room and collapsing

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on the floor. My mom rushed in and saw me

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lying there, absolutely covered in the bird stuff. My word,

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she yelled, Harold, get some rooms. The brooms weren't going

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to help this time. There was no nest, and the

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bird took off like a rocket, leaving a gooey trail behind.

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My dad didn't disappoint, though, He exploded into my room

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with a broom at each hand and a look of

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confusion on his face. Once the insanity had subsided and

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I had time to shower and comprehend what happened, I

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just leaned on the windowsill, wandering about the bird. I

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felt horrible for it and wanted to so badly tell

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it that it wasn't me who didn't want it there.

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That's when I saw something odd stuffed in the bushy

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leaves of the tree. I used a hockey stick to

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fish it out and drag it close enough to reach.

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It was a book with a bird on the cover,

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holding out a bizarrely muscular wing. It was called buff

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Up and Get the Revenge You've Always Desired by Talan Lark.

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I flipped the book over and just under the synopsis,

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which described buffing up to Get Revenge was a picture

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of the author, Talan Lark, and to my utter shock,

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it was just a headshot of a bird. Another week

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went by, my dad had installed security cameras outside my window.

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I knew the bird was too smart to fall for them.

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There was actually a chapter in the book about avoiding

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detection on revenge missions, so if the bird had read it,

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which was my working theory, then I definitely wouldn't have

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shown up at my window again. It would find some

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other way, and that night it did. My mom, dad,

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and I were sitting around the dinner table eating hamburgers

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and tater tots. I'd used the last of the ketchup

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and needed some more. My dad, happily, in a false

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sense of security, offered to get it for me. He

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went to the fridge and opened it. Then he stopped.

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What is it, Harold, My mom asked him. Sh My

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dad hushed her. He heard something. My mom and I

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both went quiet as well. Then we heard it too,

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a knock at the front door. My dad reached into

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the pantry and grabbed a broom, then crept toward the

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front door. My mom rolled her eyes at him, Why

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do you need a broom? That was a knock, Harold,

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not a chirp. Birds chirp, they don't knock. Sickening feeling

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swirled around inside my stomach. Birds could knock if they

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were big and buff enough, I thought, But that was impossible,

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right my dad opened the door and was immediately punched

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with such force that he flew back through the house

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like a rocket, blazing past in a blur, knocking my

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burger and tots onto the floor, and crashed out the

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back wall and into the backyard. Harold, my mom yelled,

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jumping through the hole in the house to help my dad.

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I stood up and rushed to the front door to

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see what in the world just happened. Somehow I expected

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to see the bird, but not like this. It was

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the size of a man, larger than my dad. It

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was buffed up, probably the buffest bird you can imagine,

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like if the Rock or John Cena were covered in

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feathers that had beaks. Sure, kid, the bird said, in

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a deep, weird voice. I was stunned. It had learned

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to speak too. You want to mess with my nest,

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the bird said, Well, dou can play that game?

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Speaker 1: Two can?

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Speaker 2: I said, uh, pun, you tell jokes too. The bird

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winked at me. I think you'd be pheasantly surprised. What

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followed next was an onslaught of bird induced horror on

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my home, my nest. The bird tore apart our furniture,

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pecked my dad's arsenal of brooms to death until they

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were nothing but sharp splinters and loose bristles. It ate

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all of our food, turned our clocks back, pummeled my

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dad into a state of unconsciousness, squawked into my mom's

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ears until her ear drums burst, clogged our toilets, and

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finally regurgitated worms all over me. We never saw the

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bird again after that. When it left, strutting out the

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front door in which it came, I wasn't sure what

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to think. I mean, what would you think? What would

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you do if the buffest bird around throttled your family

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and uprooted your house? Nothing prepares you for something like that.

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Coming up next week on micro Terrors Scary Stories for Kids,

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we have a brand new listener terrorist episode with five

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creepy new stories from our young creative listeners. You don't

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want to miss them. Hey, at a special note for

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you micro terror listeners, do you like stories about flying corn?

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Bugs with sharp teeth that turn people into larger versions

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of corn. Bugs with sharp teeth. Well, then Swarm of

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Corn would be right up your alley. Swarm of Corn

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is a micro Terrors fan Club exclusive novelette available to

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Spooky and Terrified Tier members. If you're at the Spooky Tear,

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you'll get a PDF download of the book. If you're

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at the Terrified Tier, you'll get a paperback copy of

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the book. If you're not a member yet but are interested,

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it's not too late. Head on over to micro terrors

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dot com for more information, and while you're there, check

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out our merch store and sign up for the monthly newsletter.

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I'm your narrator, Darren Marler. Thank you all for being

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such dedicated micro Terrors listeners. See you next Saturday. Chirp,

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chirp kid.

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Speaker 1: Hey I'm not that kid. I didn't do it. Thank

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you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday

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for another scary story. For more fun, visit our website

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at microterrors dot com, where you can get the latest

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micro Terrors news, read fun facts about each story, sign

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up for our monthly newsletter, and even send in your

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own scary story for us to tell Plus. You can

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become one of the Terrify by joining the fan club

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at microterrors dot com. You enjoy exclusive perks like reading

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stories a week early, receiving complimentary books, and communicating directly

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with micro Terrors writer and creator Scott Donnelly. You can

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also follow us on Facebook and Instagram using the handle

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at microterrs. I hope you'll join us again soon for

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Microterrors Scary Stories for Kids.