a Cuckoo

They call me ‘A Cuckoo’.
Because I always know the right time for death.
I don’t have ESP.
I don’t have a magic mascot or subtle vibes.
I don’t have an affiliation with the Fortune-teller Club.
I just know it.
And I’m calm.

They can aggro.
They can say I’m a gory, cruel bird.
I’m a fucking accounting cuckoo.
I’m calm.

One… Two… Three…

They can’t bust out.
I stand on the roof.

Four… Five…

I lift my munition – a bow and arrows with cuckoo’s feathers.
I close my left eye…

Six… Seven…

It’s so easy!
It’s like skeet…

Eight… Nine…

Welcome to hell, loser!

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