"Don't even think about it, mate," Gazza muttered, pulling his McMuffin closer.

The bird didn't blink. It just let out a dry, rattling honk.

Gazza sighed, looking at his hash brown—the perfect golden triangle of grease and potato. He knew the drill. This was a classic Sydney shakedown.

The tourist scrambled for their phone, thanking Gazza profusely. Gazza just nodded, took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, and watched the bin chicken finish its prize.

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