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Description

(previous part )
(first part )
(final part )

SLAM!!

The table shook as the huge pile of papers met with its surface in a theatrical fling.
The whole room fell silent.

It was the secretary bird.
Of course it was.
He had finally had enough.
And decided to dig up his evidence.
All his handy work from the previous conferences.

Completely expressionless too.
As always.

The secretary bird was no ones secretary.
That was for certain.

Rather he was the kind of person that would remind them all of their proud ancestry.

But if you needed something written down, you could bet almost anything that the secretary bird had already done so.

He would document EVERYTHING.
And he would not hesitate to rub it in your face if he found it necessary.

“No, you said this thing. Don’t go back and try denying it.”

His memory was like a well kept library.
The papers, it would seem, only for them.

In a way, that was the beauty of the secretary bird.
He would keep them on track.
Stop them from becoming completely unreasonable.
Or from unnecessarily arguing over aspects previously agreed upon.

With the secretary bird present, the discussion had to remain somewhat intelligent.
Or you would hear about it.

Of course one could always count on the honourable collective to find new things in which to place their vitriol.

Description

(previous part )
(first part )
(final part )

SLAM!!

The table shook as the huge pile of papers met with its surface in a theatrical fling.
The whole room fell silent.

It was the secretary bird.
Of course it was.
He had finally had enough.
And decided to dig up his evidence.
All his handy work from the previous conferences.

Completely expressionless too.
As always.

The secretary bird was no ones secretary.
That was for certain.

Rather he was the kind of person that would remind them all of their proud ancestry.

But if you needed something written down, you could bet almost anything that the secretary bird had already done so.

He would document EVERYTHING.
And he would not hesitate to rub it in your face if he found it necessary.

“No, you said this thing. Don’t go back and try denying it.”

His memory was like a well kept library.
The papers, it would seem, only for them.

In a way, that was the beauty of the secretary bird.
He would keep them on track.
Stop them from becoming completely unreasonable.
Or from unnecessarily arguing over aspects previously agreed upon.

With the secretary bird present, the discussion had to remain somewhat intelligent.
Or you would hear about it.

Of course one could always count on the honourable collective to find new things in which to place their vitriol.