King Terror Bird looks a bit like a really big, really angry turkey only when you look a bit closer you realize to your surprise that it’s actually a baby – albeit one with a big wobbly mouth, no hair or feathers, loads of folds of floppy loose skin with the occasional ridiculous wispy white feather sticking out, sitting in a vast domain of shit squalor, only when you look at it for a bit longer again you realize that it looks more like an old man than a bird. Not a really old man but one past his late sixties anyway, and really overweight and unhealthy looking. The stink is utterly unbearable, as you might imagine. The smell is awful – supernatural in its intensity, almost. It’s a true horror, worse than any of your nightmares. You didn’t know it was possible to be so scared. No one ever does. It lives in its degraded lair, and it shits in its nest. It’s nest is made of its own shit. It can’t fly – it’s far too fat and unhealthy for that, and anyway it’s got no feathers and only rudimentary wings, but it keeps shouting that it’s going to fly over to where you live and take a dump on your head. It’s a fricking nightmare, in other words. Totally repugnant. It really exists – I can assure you of that. It exists and it is the secret ruler of the world. Or at least it’s one of the secret rulers. It’s a Feaster, a ‘Dominator Species’ and you can’t ever see it. Its nest is in your head.