The circuitry in their brains not only made them hyperintelligent and able to communicate easily with B.W., it enabled them to infiltrate the rest of the human population by...

...plastering their heads with genetically engineered "smart guano", guided to the human targets with pinpoint accuracy.

Of course once the cranium was, uh, touched, it was all over. Imagine: hundreds of millions of human bird-zombies, wandering the planet in a daze, perching in trees, flapping their arms, falling to their deaths. From an evolutionary perspective, it was a disaster, as very few ever learned to fly reliably...

Such was the state of affairs in the early summer of 1993, a scant five months after the escape of the diabolical Bird-Woman.

But back to our cozy holiday '92 gathering...

There was a moment of stunned silence, as the family absorbed the incredible news of Bird-Woman's prison break. John, characterstically, was the first to break the silence. "What's for dinner?"

The others, taking his cue, returned to their familiar holiday routine of family gossip, over-eating, dreaming aloud of the future. John and Betsy were planning a family now, and this topic dominated conversation. No further mention was made of cold-footed grooms or high-speed limo chases, in which Betsy was charitably said to have "rescued" John.

Late in the evening, after everyone else had gone to bed, John and Cousin Dave got back on the subject, though neither knew it at the time. "Headgear futures, that's where I'm putting my money!", John announced, rather authoritatively.

"Headgear?", Dave asked, incredulously.

"Yes, headgear - hats. You know, baseball caps, rain hats, pillbox hats, ten gallon cowboy hats - you name it. The starmaze recommends this unambiguously as the safest of investments. I believe that headgear will be the fashion statment of the 90's.

Don't tell Betsy this, but I've invested everything - Everything! - in the futures market for hats. I strongly urge you to do the same. We're in hock up to our necks - maybe higher. I've cancelled our health insurance, our apartment insurance, our car insurance; last night I sold Betsy's quilts and pawned her Mac, all to get more options on hats. Frankly, I expect to be worth more than Ross Perot by Friday at the latest. Tell me something: Don't you have access to your law firm's funds?"

HaHaHaTHUMP!

I'm torn between bouncing this right back to Janine, and offering Betsy a whack at it. But instead, I think I will decline to specify the next author. I will, however, make a suggestion: let's get a scene going at a bowling alley, with Holly and Suzanne.

HaHaHaTHUMP!