Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

You stretch out in bed, your eyes already half-closed. You've been reading for much longer than you had intended - You need to know what happens to Mark Whatney, gosh darn it - and you're quite ready to go right to sleep. But before you can, you hear a tapping at your window.

You want to ignore it, but it becomes louder and more frequent as you lay there in the dark. Finally, you throw off your covers and walk over to the window. 

There you find a tropical bird of some sort, its long beak hooked and colored in vibrant shades of yellow and orange. It seems to be carrying a paper in one curved talon. You open the window, and it extends its leg to you. You take the paper, open it up, and read:

Dearest CBer,

We cordially invite you to an exclusive vacation at Tropical Air and Wildlife Resort. For its grand opening, we choose to hand-pick guests that we feel would best benefit our resort, and therefore we request that you submit an application* before making your way to the Amazon Rainforest.

Here at Tropical Air and Wildlife Resort, we believe in the best service for all of our guests. Thus, you may expect none of the violent murder and injury that has occured at our opponents' various openings. Instead, please enjoy a stay full of sunshine, spacious trees, and poisonous snakes.

Best Wishes,

The Toucan Keeper

*See enclosed.

You read the letter through twice. "What do I have that would benefit a resort?" you ask the toucan, but it merely cocks its head at you and shoves out its other leg.

Here, you see a form:

Name:

Pronouns:

Appearance:

Personality:

Packing List:

Other:

Please fill in this form and send it in as soon as possible, because spots are limited to a total of 10 CBers, not counting companions they choose to accompany them.

Best Wishes,

The Toucan Keeper

Bemused, you fill out the information and clumsily tie it onto the leg of your toucan. As it spreads its wings to fly away, a peculiar sensation comes over you. By the time the bird has made it through the window, you are splayed out on the floor, unconscious . . .