Dingles: Wonder parrot from \'Nam

Who: The Virtual Pet from hell, Mr Dingles.
Where: Back in Parrots *insert evil cackle*
When: Night? Day? Sleepy bye time?
Dingles quietly crept along the light trestles hanging from the
ceiling of Parrots for karaoke night, tucking his head under a wing
as he plucked a few hunks of what he prayed to God were banana bits
from the circuitry that was now useless. It probably had something to
do with personality, he mused, taking up point directly over Dirk's
head.
How he had gotten back into the ship was something he was rather
proud of, having thought to go back *in* the garbage 'shooty outy
bits' - technical terms being his forte - except for the all
important fact that where garbage comes out, garbage goes in, and he
had been doused with what seemed to be thousand island dressing. ~How
is it they can eat so *much* of that?~ he pondered silently, dropping
a piece of festering vindaloo pizza (another marvel to his messed up
mind) beside him - the weapon he had thought to organise.
Lifting the pizza into position, Ding caught the song he was singing
and recognised it instantly. If he could have grinned, he would
have. "Terror from the skies!" he screeched, letting go of the soggy
wedge and watching it fall. Dirk looked up - just in time, Dingles
thought - to catch the full effect of rotten chicken and pizza base
landing with a wet *slap!* on his startled gob.
"Score!" He thrust a wing upwards, barely noticing the mob of irate
women beneath him.
"Oi, faeces features!" one female crewmember shouted upwards.
Dingles grinned - metaphorically - and turned towards the new
target. "I'll leave that little statement down to your monthly
chemical imbalance and see that I don't pelt you with other items,
wayward wench!"
(Tag!)
OOC: Steeeerike two! Sorry Dirk, but Dingles just doesn't quit while
he's ahead.