Mama Vulture had a problem. Her beloved chick was constantly breaking her heart; getting into trouble. He would stray from the nest, fall in with a bad crowd of other avian ne’er-do-wells, and frequently need to be rescued by his mother, sometimes at great risk to herself. Her only pleasure in life was gathering food to nourish him. He was defiant and unappreciative of her efforts, often squawking and demanding, “Hey, you old buzzard! I’m starving! What’s for supper?” To which she would dutifully reply…
“Carrion, my wayward son.”