Swooping in from the high heavens comes Fred, the kestrel. Fred is a dainty raptor and he can always be seen cleaning and fricaseeing his prey after it is caught and dead. Sometimes he even gives it a shower and shampoo beforehand, so it is looking its best.
If I were Fred’s prey I would try to present him with a treat of myself. I would gussy myself up and look my very best. I think I would wear my smoking jacket and my flaming partridge hat, and Crocs of various colours. I would smell of ashes and I would have cranberry juice in my mouth, the better to squirt out of my teeth at the key moment. What a surprise Fred would have! His talons would sink deeply into my flesh and out would come the beverage…smelling perplexingly of berries! Oh man alive, it would be a pleasing though puzzling experience for old Fred, I can tell you.
I think I’m going to give it a try, though I have no way to assure myself that he will actually attack and consume me. I have a can-do attitude.
I’ll be gift-rapt.