Chapter 117: Bucket of Poo

Jimmy tried his best to be calculative. He could think one-step ahead, at all times, and he couldn’t really turn that off, but that trick didn’t really help him become more scheming, or manipulative, and the fact was that he had to be manipulative if he was going to get his claws on whatever secret this village held, if they had a secret.

Secrets in this world, especially when shared across a particular community, almost always meant power.

Considering that these rough, high-testosterone villagers were trying to maintain order to the point where they built a little jail house, he figured that the order they tried to maintain, went past the fact that they had to maintain their food source.

Angry fishermen, or women, were hardly a cause for concern. They couldn’t destroy civilizations.

Those aspects managed to confuse him quite a bit, so he didn’t have a plan yet, per se.

When he heard Marta grunting, mumbling, and talking to herself in there, his focus was stunted even more.

’I’ll just wing it,’ He thought.

Though he didn’t refer to his wings, he still spread them wide, and landed on the window below him, looking through the wooden bars that were supposed to keep a strong woman like Marta in there.

Marta sat on the ground, gathering dirt on her kilt.

At first sight, Jimmy almost thought that he was just flashed, because her kilt was too short to cover her extreme figure, but that wasn’t the case. Her leg muscles were big enough to cover everything important.

He heard Marta mumble, "Ah’m nae drunk. That craw blew up the fish’s heid! Ah saw it masel’ wi’ ma ain twa eyes!"

Jimmy felt guilty when he heard this. He confirmed what all of that commotion was about from earlier.

The sadness she radiated, which in his advanced eyes, literally made her body seem blue for a moment, made him feel bad on her behalf. He was tempted to help her in any way he could, rather than try and pry information out of her.

His beak expressed the same when he called for her, "Hey there, Marta, was it? Do you need any help?"

Marta jumped the moment she heard him speak. This was the first time he saw her spooked, but that didn’t last for long.

Rage consumed her quickly. She was blue a moment ago, but now she looked like a fireball.

Within two seconds, she stood up, grabbed a bucket, and hurled it against the wooden bars which separated her from the crow.

The bucked bounced off of the bars, but the contents within it, mostly liquid, sprayed between the bars, and covered Jimmy like a warm blanket.

"Gross!" He exclaimed, as soon as he got a whiff of what stuck to his feathers, "Why the bloody hell did ye lob yer shite at me?"

"It wisnae ma shite," Marta smirked.

Jimmy was stunned, or, he was spooked, to be fair, because even though he expected to be attacked, he never expected to be sprayed with a bucket of shit. He had a hard time moving past that fact.

He thought, ’Why does that sound even more gross? It’s not like I would’ve preferred her shit. I may admire her, but admiration can only go so far, right?’

After a moment of silence, he slowly moved past the fact that he was covered in shit, which didn’t bother him much, really, because he was used to being covered with bodily liquids of other animals, and he tried to reason with her again.

This time around, however, he wasn’t as tempted to help her, and had already gone back to scheming, which was his default mode whenever he sought treasure of any sort, really.

However, try as he must, Marta did not fall for it. She barely gave him a response.

She simply said, "Piss aff."

"No," He said, and did not intend to yield, "Whit’s the plan here, Marta? Ye dinnae belong in this dump, an’ ye ken fine I could break ye oot o’ here, aye?"

Although tentative, she did respond, and said, "Aye, break oot an’ go where? Fishin’? Ah’ll plunk masel doon right here, an’ wait it oot, nae bother."

Marta was down in the dumps, she seemed depressed. He did not know how to snap her out of it, and worse yet, he didn’t know how to use her situation at his advantage. He couldn’t figure it out.

The first thing he did was back off. He pretended to respect her wishes, and as soon as he climbed on top of the building again, he re-grouped with his very confused friends, who were nowhere near to being in the loop in regards to what he tried to achieve.

As if he tried to disrespect them, he asked them for ideas.

"What do humans like?" He asked, "Give me anything you can think of. You never know, it could be a great idea."

"Mind your manners," Zoey said, "You’re not the smartest one in the group, remember?"

"Okay then," He nodded, "Give me a good idea."

"Food," Zoey said, "Everyone loves food."

"We’d have to slip a whole cow through the window to feed her, she’s an absolute unit." He shook his head.

"Unit?" Vorin parroted.

Jimmy subconsciously ignored him, as he suddenly got an idea, one that didn’t sound absolutely horrible and vague. He flew away from the small jail-house, and headed towards the village. The murder of crows followed suit.

In the middle of the village, lied an open crate. Within it were beverages that humans and animals alike might enjoy.

The crate was full of Ale. He had it under good authority that people drank it warm in this world too.

Jimmy grabbed a bottle, and his friends did the same. He could only manage to carry one without dropping it, and his friends struggled even more, as they were smaller in stature.

The murder flew back to the jail-house, and their mildly respected leader, Jimmy, flapped his wings close to the window with a devious smirk on his face.