Today, the class had handwavily been told to meet in the Danger Shop. When they got there, they would find themselves in a replica of a park, surrounded by skyscrapers; those from this world might recognize it as NYC's Central Park. Their teacher was standing before a replica of Bethesda Fountain, typing away on her Blackberry; perched on the Angel of the Waters sculpture were three creatures. They stood as tall as the average human, and nearly looked human -- flabby torso, legs -- except for the heads and wings, which looked like birds of prey. They only wore socks, so when the Manbirds shifted on their perches, you could see a long, feathery appendage dangling between their legs -- not their genitalia. Just the tube that protected it.

"Don't throw any change in," Callie warned. "I know, it's a fountain, but trust me on that. Right, so. We're meeting here and not in the classroom for a very important reason. That's so I don't ruin my shoes. Our topic is when diversity goes horribly wrong, or what happens when you introduce a new species into a population in the worst way possible, or --"

"Suck my balls!" interjected one of the three.

"Why you don't feed the Manbirds," she said, very very dryly. "So, a while back, a vacationing tourist named Vincent Campanetti found the Manbirds and thought they were hilarious. He taught them some phrases, and fed them some of his spare change. They started parroting phrases back at him. He thought this was hilarious and so, of course, like the moron he was, brought them back to New York, where they had no natural predators."

Thanks, Vincent.

"So they bred, and bred, and bred, and now, Manbird season is one of the worst times in Manhattan," Callie sighed.

"Put your cheeks into it!" another Manbird called out.

"That middle one is female, by the way, and she's asking for change. Oh, I should note. They developed a highly specialized language, based on the few phrases he taught them -- all of them vulgar. It's entirely pronunciation based. There are over five hundred variations of the phrase 'suck my balls,' none of which actually mean 'suck my balls.' I happen to speak Manbird, and it's not an easy language to learn."

She finally put away her Blackberry. "Anyway. The Manbirds eat loose change. They live near fountains, they leave gigantic dumps on the ground, and if you throw coins to them, they will flock to you and beat you with their appendages and wings until you cough up the rest of your money. All while shouting what seem to be obscenities. The smell of Manbird shit does not come out of your shoes easily, which is why I didn't get real Manbirds." That and, she didn't actually want any of her students to be bludgeoned to death. The vice-principal had hinted that was a no-no.

"So," she said. "If you want to actually talk to the Manbirds, I can translate. Or we can talk about how maybe the integration could have gone better, or maybe Manbirds were never meant to be in Manhattan. Or we could sit here and enjoy Central Park."

"Last thing. Next week, bring some money -- yours, or if you don't have any, someone else's. We're going shopping. In Hell."