A barbecue gone wrong - a smoldering, open-air infernal cavern of cinderns and soot. And, lo, a voice from the mire: a voice of mock'ry, a voice of discouragement and sharp scorn. For embedded in the mess of smoke appears a demonic force, one whose sole purpose at the moment appears to be either to provide a negative incentive toward future grilling on Ziggy's part, or to persuade him to eat that which may be unhealthy to his little frame. Even the awful parrot looks down upon this unwelcome intrusion from the world of hellfire into an innocent, albeit misguided, attempt at a simple backyard barbecue.
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