Arthur was not simply well-versed in music. In his mind, he was the expert on all things musical. He had very high standards, in fact. Too high standards, some might say. Such high standards that few could meet them, others might say. And some might even say that his ego was such that he only considered the music he created to be of any worth, the rest simple trash to be disregarded.

For the most part, he didn’t let the opinions of others bother him. The songs of others, however, were another matter, and this was not limited to humans, for the most constant annoyance to him was the group of birds outside his window. But that annoyance would be no more after today. He was going to demonstrate to those birds what true music was. After that, those birds would surely be so deeply ashamed that they would never again try to sing even a single note!

And so, he opened his window and began to sing. His voice carried a long way, definitely far enough for the birds to hear, so why were they not stopping their chirping and staring in awe? Were they ignoring him? No, surely not. Nobody could ignore a voice so beautiful as his. Surely they were mocking him!

He cleared his throat, then continued again. This time, the birds took notice, not just because of the volume of his singing - though at this point he was singing so loud that it was indeed hard to ignore - but because of all the strange things the birds had seen humans do, developing a beak was something that the birds had never seen a human do before. But indeed, that is what the man had done, now sporting a hooked pink beak. Arthur noticed this as well, but he paid it no mind. He had no time to. There was singing to be done and a lesson to be taught!

He also paid no mind to the black feathers forming on his face, then all around his head. He didn’t even pay it any mind when a line grew up from the back of his head and soon his head looked like a black feathery eighth note. Indeed, it seemed fitting. He was more songbird than these birds could ever hope to be, so much so that he resembled music itself! There may have been a ruff of white feathers forming around his neck, but these birds wouldn’t ruffle his feathers, not at all!

His singing continued. He truly had his rhythm going, and to reflect this a long, straight black feathered tail with a sphere near the end formed from behind, swaying side to side like a metronome. This was soon followed by more feathers on his body, yellow on his chest and green on the rest of his body. He had now shrunken down considerably, his clothes now fallen around him, but that didn't concern him. The music was all that mattered.

Last to change were his arms, becoming covered in feathers and changing into blue wings. With that, his transformation was complete. Some might have called his new form a Chatot, but he thought of it as a flawless representation of his inner self, as well as a symbol of superiority over the inferior songbirds outside his window.

Just as he was finishing his song, the birds flew away. Some might have said the birds were simply spooked away, but he was sure they were admitting defeat, flying away in shame. With that, he hopped back to his chair and continued his song composition.