You replace the tightly clamped mask. Instead, your eyes drift back to the aviators from earlier. They're also tightly encased in plastic, which is odd for sunglasses. Either way, they appeal to you. Being regular sunglasses, no one would comment or even spare a glance if you walked around with them on. You pick them up and immediately spin around to the back where the instructions are. The predicted and at this point expected, numbered list followed by dense legalese greets you.
"'The Avian'ATORS!' Love birds? Well, have some love birds of your own by following these simple instructions below!
1. Remove 'The Avian'ATORS!' from their safety-oriented packaging.
2. Put on the sunglasses while thinking of your favorite bird!
3. Observe as everyone you see flocks to you, ready to lift you up every chance they get!
4. Whatever you want! It's your life, and YOUR pair of 'The Avian'ATORS!'
If you need to have your life take off, spare a glance at yourself in the mirror to really find out if it's all for the birds!"
You willfully ignore the high language legal speak immediately following. So these shades aren't tied to one specific animal like the others seem to be. That's convenient. You wonder why the others aren't like that as you silently scan the instructions again. You flick your eyes to the store clerk. He's partially obscured, sitting behind the counter. Even so, you can tell he's just sitting there browsing on his phone. You find it bewildering that anyone could care so little about the contents of this shop to the point that a screen is more interesting. The quickest flash of a turkey crosses your mind, but its enough.
You hold onto the idea, and hold the sunglasses up like before. You can't help but feel a twinge of excitement form in your gut when you spot brown and black feathers. The clerk is a turkey now. Once again, a woman-- that part seems to be non-negotiable at the moment-- and you can just make out her plumage on the left side. Not as fluffy as a chicken, there is a distinct shape of a bosom somewhere in that mess of feathers. Maybe if you chose a leaner bird, you'd see it all. You pull the sunglasses down. Out of all the other magical items, you've chosen this one.
"Are you still interested in the cow?" Was the response by the clerk to your quick and sudden stride back to the front counter. You regard the binoculars for a moment. You weren't that into cows, honestly. Not as much as birds if you had to weigh them. You give a dismissive nod, and the clerk nods in kind as he drops the binoculars into an unseen bin below the counter top. You assume its the same price as earlier, pulling out just over twenty dollars to cover taxes.
He accepts without another word, and returns everything in a plastic bag. You take it graciously, despite your growing ambivalence of the clerk, and wish him a good day. The twinge of excitement returns and it makes your well-wishes sound a bit weak. He merely grunts in acknowledgment with a professional smile before sitting back down in the chair. You barely notice and honestly hear the chime of the door more as you make your way out of the shop. You feel like you've just made off with a king's ransom. You parked your car right in front of the magic shop. It wasn't intentional. You didn't really even notice the shop until after you parked. You flop into your seat and the bag into the passenger's. Your hand is already moving from the ignition to the a/c as you race to beat the car-heated air in burning you alive.
Calm greets you with the cool air as it strokes your face. Now, confident that you won't fry, you grab the clam-shelled aviators out of the plastic bag. Without much thought, you give a test pull, expecting to have to utilize the pocket-knife under your seat. To your delight, the two halves separate cleanly, as if they had never been sealed together. Was this also the work of magic? The glasses and paper labeling immediately fall to the floor of the car, no longer pinched in place. You scoop the paper label up with the two plastic pieces and dump it all back in the passenger's seat. You bend over again and retrieve the sunglasses, holding them up to the sun to check for any scuffs or scratches. None what-so-ever. You shrug and put them on. They function well enough as sunglasses. Really they're nothing special. The only thing you can look at is the magic shop's store front, so you do just that. You can see the side-profile of the store clerk as she continues to sit back and hang out on her phone. You say 'her' because the glasses gave them the familiar visage of a turkey woman again. You chuckle as you look over the brim of the glasses again to compare. You suddenly feel the cold air hitting your face very well.
Instead of the lanky dude you were expecting, a plumed and shapely female figure continues to lean into her fold-out chair, either oblivious or uncaring that she was not what she was mere moments ago. You wince as she suddenly looks up, notices you, and shoots you a smirk and a wink. The smile continues on her beak as her eyes return to the phone. As a final act of disbelief, you pull off the aviators. You simply confirm that she is a turkey now. You barely notice the timing as a pedestrian crosses between you and the shop. It pulls you back and you look down.
You see the glasses, and feel the twinge of excitement return a third time. They're not only real magic glasses-- they're reality changing. You're not sure what you expected. Maybe some sort of perverted kaleidoscope that let's you see, naked bird women on command. You definitely weren't expecting this. You should probably be afraid, but you're not. You're curious. What should you do with this information?