The fiery bird flutters to my shoulder and whispers in my ear: "I am the god of procrastination. I am on the prowl. You are my prey." As I lift my hand to shoo him away, he flaps into the air in a cacophonous frenzy. Glitter sparkles shoot from somewhere behind him as rainbow spirals flow from his instant show. I try to look away, but he shrieks like a child suffering and my attention returns to him, feeding him, making him stronger. Making his glitter clouds sparkle brighter. Making his rainbows glow in 3 dimensional awe. I squint to block the show, but it is no use. I lunge at the bird and manage to grasp him by his spectacular throat. I take a deep breath. The bird begins to burn. Heat makes him hard to hold. In my crisis moment I cram him into my mouth where he struggles like a madman. Like a toddler who resists going to bed. With a swig of white tea I swallow the god of procrastination. I swallow him whole. With a fist on my chest, to quell the deep burning, I turn my head and cough out a small cloud of smoldering feathers.