the creature. single feature

I am the creature hanging from your ceiling.

I live off of Mars bars and yogurt-dipped fingers. I have a companion who plucks my eyebrows and I am not affected by gravity, as you see, my hair does not follow nor yield to such force. Do not be alarmed for you have no defense against me, nor will I harm you. So you may as well be relaxed and enjoy our time together. I would ask only for the porcelain-inflected buttons on your vest (every other one from the top down), 3 good-natured parakeets, the sparkly eye shadow your dead wife left behind  (god rest her soul) and two pots of freshly ground Chilean coffee you may retrieve from the man in the backyard who is watching you. Please be kind to him and assist him in cracking his back, as he has only arrived a fortnight ago after a long and arduous descent from his home in the Andes Mountains.

We will share the coffee together, you and me, black through the depths of this dreary, dark night. My wings have quite a span so I will politely refrain from flapping in your domicile. There is a key which is lashed to my waist, which unlocks my heart for you. Just be sure to turn exactly 90 degrees counter clockwise, than a full 360 degrees clockwise then 2 degrees at a time counter, every 7 minutes for 4 hours, and rather than rounding you may complete the last click on the 4th strike of the final hour, upon the bell, as heard through the window you will leave open which looks out open the church several meters away in whose rafters I was conceived. Do not forget the coffee, upon your life, do not forget.
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