Anthony Steele crouched low in the bush. He had a camera set up, ready to snap the picture that would propel his career to the next level.
Sipping lemon-infused water and chewing beef jerky, he sat poised and ready to capture the rare Wikka Wikka bird. He swore he was prepared to wait for as long as it took.
Three days later, and with no Wikka Wikka bird, Anthony was grovelling, praying to any entity that would listen, to bring his desired quarry into frame.
On a tree above Anthony, a Wikka Wikka bird prepared to shit on him.
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