The Angry Birds Movie 2

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Photo Section

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  It was another beautiful day on Bird Island. The sun was shining. The birds were going about their business, and Red was doing what he did best: keeping the whole island safe.

  Red was the hero of Bird Island, and he intended on keeping it that way. As he performed his daily patrol at the beach, he stared through some binoculars toward Piggy Island. He and his friends were watching—and waiting for the pigs to attack.

  “Anything from Piggy Island?” Red asked.

  “Nope. Nothing,” Bomb replied.

  “South?”

  Chuck, who hadn’t quite gotten the hang of his compass points, emerged out of a lump of sand, binoculars at the ready. “Nope. Nothin’.”

  They weren’t the only ones on the lookout, though. A nearby hatchling spotted something in the sky.

  “What’s that?” they asked as they pointed at a round object that was zipping closer and closer to the beach.

  Red gasped as he looked through the binoculars. “Oh no! Duck!” he warned them.

  All the birds on the beach did just that—except for one. A cream pie soared through the air and made a loud SPLAT! as it hit a duck square in the face.

  Quickly, Red looked through his binoculars toward Piggy Island. There he saw exactly what he suspected: a bunch of pigs. Next to a pie cannon. Celebrating. The pigs had launched the pie that had smacked the poor duck right in the bill!

  Seething with anger, Red made a vow.

  “Those pigs . . . ,” he started.

  “Are gonna pay . . . ,” Chuck added fiercely, joining him.

  They looked expectantly at Bomb, who they hoped would finish their sentence.

  “For our lunches . . . ,” Bomb guessed.

  Red gave Bomb an odd look but decided to try to save the moment.

  “Uh, because of our hunger to give them . . . ,” Red continued.

  “A taste of their own . . . ,” Chuck joined in again.

  “Quesadilla!” Bomb said joyfully. Then he looked at his friends, who didn’t seem as happy. He knew he hadn’t said the right thing. “This game is hard.”

  Red knew what he had to do! Get revenge on Piggy Island, and quick!

  Red, Bomb, and Chuck went into town, where Red admired a mural of himself. Alex, the painter, had done a great job of making Red look very heroic, just the way he looked on the day he had saved Bird Island from being invaded by the pigs. As he walked through town, Red was bombarded with affection from his fellow birds, who were very thankful for all of Red’s help and leadership.

  “We love you!” one bird called out.

  “Thanks for everything!” another said as they passed by.

  Red stood tall. He was proud of himself for doing so much good for his town.

  Red stepped into the front of the slingshot line. “Sorry, guys, taking over the blue line. Official business,” he explained.

  The other birds in line understood. They were happy Red was taking care of them.

  “Hey, Red!” Alex shouted out to him. “Isn’t it funny how nobody liked you until you saved Bird Island, but now we all love you?”

  Red grimaced. It was true—up until he had saved the birds’ eggs from going into one giant omelet for Leonard Mudbeard, the leader of the pigs, he had just been the local grouch. He didn’t like being reminded of it, though. “Yes, thanks for bringing that up,” he replied sarcastically.

  Red, Chuck, and Bomb loaded a large bottle of hot sauce into the slingshot and pulled the slingshot strap back as hard as they could.

  “Okay, ready?” Red asked. “Three . . . ,” he began the countdown.

  “Two . . . ,” Chuck continued.

  “Two!” Bomb said enthusiastically.

  “No, Bomb, you say ‘one,’” Red instructed him.

  Bomb’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Right!” he remembered. “One!”

  The trio let go of the strap, sending the hot sauce flying through the air and across the ocean toward their target: Piggy Island.

  Over on Piggy Island things were peaceful in a very piggy way. There was a lot of noise and clutter. Just the way they liked it! Some of the pigs were enjoying a large, pig-size meal at the Piggy Island restaurant. One pig in particular believed his meal could use a little more flavor.

  “Yoo-hoo! Hot sauce, please!” he called out to the waiter.

  THUMP!

  Things got a lot spicier when the hot sauce bottle from Bird Island hit the pig right in the gut!

  A bird versus pig prank war had begun!

  When a group of hatchlings celebrated at a party, one hatchling happily collected a balloon from a bird clown, but things didn’t go as planned.

  “Ooo! The red one! The red one! Ha ha! Balloonie!”

  Red shuddered. The bird clown’s troubles reminded him of the day he was forced to be the bird clown. His cake delivery had resulted in an almighty bust-up with the young hatchling’s parents, causing them to press charges.

  From across the ocean, the pigs focused a giant magnifying glass onto the balloons the hatchlings were so excited about. A beam of hot, intense light caused the balloons to burst!

  POP! POP! POP!

  The hatchlings saw that their beloved balloons had popped. They began to cry. Loudly. Then the ray of light glided over the balloons the bird clown was holding.

  POP! POP! POP!

  The bird clown started crying, too.

  Red could feel his blood boiling. He was going to teach those pigs a lesson. Atop a diving board, he stood on Chuck’s shoulders. Chuck was standing on Bomb’s shoulders.

  “You mess with the hatchlings . . . ,” Red said as he fastened on his swim goggles, “you get the cannonball!”

  “Ready, Terence?” Bomb asked. Bomb was standing on Terence’s shoulders. Terence growled. He was ready.

  With much of Bird Island watching and cheering them on, the four birds jumped into the ocean with a giant SPLOSH. Their impact—mostly Terence’s—on the water caused a giant wave to form. The wave rolled across the ocean toward Piggy Island and smacked into it, soaking everything and everyone!

  The birds were able to relax again. Many returned to playing and sunbathing as they normally would . . . until several big shadows blocked the sun. It was Leonard in a piggy blimp! Leonard laughed as he looked down on Bird Beach.

  “This might pinch a little!” he shouted down at them.

  On cue, the piggy crew dumped basket upon basket of giant crabs onto the beach from the safety of their blimps. Birds ran in terror as the clawed crustaceans crawled on the sand!

  The blimps turned around. They had completed their mission.

  “Catch ya later, you stupid birds!” Leonard yelled as the blimp turned around, heading victoriously back to Piggy Island.

  Later that day, Leonard continued to gleefully watch the havoc the crabs caused on Bird Island through a telescope, from the comfort of his castle. While he laughed away, he felt a frantic tapping on his shoulder. One of Leonard’s assistants was trying to get his attention and was pointing in the opposite direction of Bird Island. Curious, Leonard turned his telescope in the direction his assistant was pointing.

  “That’s not coming from Bird Island,” Leonard said.

  Leonard could see something flying in the air. Somet
hing coming toward Piggy Island. It looked like a chunk of ice but had a round shape to it. Quickly it hurtled into Piggy Island Beach, causing an explosion of sand . . . and ice! Instantly, everything surrounding the impact zone was frozen solid.

  “What the heck is that? And where did it come from?” Leonard looked on, horrified.

  Frantically searching through his telescope lens, Leonard’s gaze rested on something in the distance that he had never seen before: a mysterious, icy island in the distance. A volcano belching a large plume of steam sat atop it.

  Victory was strewn about the beach. It was a mess. Sunbathing crabs were nestled among the debris of the prank war. Red stood on the slingshot, gazing out into the ocean toward Piggy Island.

  “Another successful day of protecting the island! Great job, guys!” Red said proudly to Bomb and Chuck.

  Three small hatchlings excitedly approached the older bird trio.

  “You saved us, Red!” the hatchling named Zoe said excitedly.

  Vivi, the second hatchling, agreed, “You’re our hero!”

  The third hatchling, Sam-Sam, nodded enthusiastically.

  “Correction, I’m everybody’s hero. Now why don’t you guys just go ahead and run along and keep your big, cute eyes peeled for the next pig prank, all right?” Red told the young birds.

  Eager to be helpful to Red, the hatchlings scampered off to look for any signs of the pigs’ next move. Chuck, too, was keeping his eyes open for the next attack from Piggy Island.

  “Whoa . . . ,” Chuck said as he spotted something in the distance. “What is that?”

  Red and Bomb squinted their eyes, trying to see what Chuck was talking about. There was a round, bobbing object coming closer and closer to them.

  “What the heck?” Red wondered aloud.

  Soon the object was close enough that they could see that it was a small red balloon. Attached to its string was a piece of paper rolled up like a tiny scroll. It floated up to them at the water’s edge. Red untied the piece of paper while his friends looked on. They were all very unsure about this.

  “‘Dear birds,’” Red read from the small piece of paper, “‘We humbly request a truce. Can we talk? Yours truly, Leonard. XOXO. P.S. Please keep the balloon as a gift.’”

  Red knew the pigs were trying to pull another prank. “Yeah, nice try! C’mon, what is this? It’s a trick, a scam, a con!”

  He crumpled the note and threw it in the water. Seconds later, another note attached to another balloon floated over. Red untied the new note and read it to his friends.

  “‘Dear birds, it’s not a trick, a scam, or a con. We are serious about the truce.’”

  Red was getting angry. He crumpled up that second note and threw it in the water, too.

  “We’re not fools! Do you hear me—?”

  Red was interrupted by a third balloon with a third note attached to it. Red grabbed the note and unrolled it.

  “‘You are fools. But we are serious about the truce,’” Red read.

  In his frustration, Red had not noticed that many more balloons with notes had floated ashore. In fact, Bird Island was now filled with red balloons and offers of a truce. To Red’s shock, this made the other birds very happy! Even Chuck and Bomb were celebrating.

  “The prank war is over,” Bomb declared.

  “A truce!” Chuck added.

  Red smelled something funny. “What? No! This is just another one of their pranks,” he insisted.

  “What?” Chuck asked. “This is a huge relief, right? I mean, who else was getting really tired of all the constant pranking and retaliation?”

  “Me! This guy!” Bomb agreed.

  “Tired?! No, no, no, guys, listen!” Red demanded, but Chuck and Bomb weren’t listening.

  “Imagine all the fun things we can do now!” Bomb said.

  “I can think of one,” Chuck suggested, nudging Bomb.

  “Guys, you don’t understand what I’m doing here,” Red pleaded. “We keep everyone safe. We are working tirelessly day and night to save the world.”

  “The world doesn’t need saving anymore, Red,” Chuck reminded him.

  “Of course, they still need us!” Red insisted.

  Chuck and Bomb looked at their angry friend patiently. Neither of them were the sharpest birds in the aviary, but they understood Red.

  “What are you so afraid of?” Chuck asked intently.

  “Afraid of? What do I have to be afraid of?” Red scoffed.

  Deep inside, Red was afraid of something. Recently, he had had a recurring dream where he imagined himself walking around in the dark. When he saw other birds from Bird Island, he would wave excitedly, but no one would see him! Time after time, he would try to get the attention of the other birds, but they all ignored him. It was like he didn’t exist. This dream made Red very, very afraid.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” Red fibbed.

  “Okay, you know what, I’m just gonna write you a prescription for one night of fun with your cool friends . . . especially Chuck,” said Chuck.

  “C’mon. Come with us!” Bomb encouraged Red.

  “What are you talking about? Come with you to what?” Red asked.

  “Uh, buddy, we can’t tell you because you definitely wouldn’t be into it,” Chuck answered.

  With that, Chuck wrapped the slingshot around all three of them, preparing to fire them all to his desired destination. Much to his annoyance, Red was going wherever Chuck and Bomb wanted.

  Farther down on the beach, the hatchlings Zoe, Vivi, and Sam-Sam were playing make-believe. They were reenacting one of their favorite stories—the famous story of how Red saved the birds’ eggs from Mudbeard, king of the pigs.

  “Ha! Now we have all your eggs!” Zoe taunted in her best piggy voice, as she set three stones on top of a piece of driftwood. She and Vivi were wearing some homemade piggy costumes, complete with green snouts.

  “Yeah, there’s nothing you can do about it, Red!” Vivi play-taunted before she high-fived her “piggy” friend and let out an impressive series of oinks!

  Suddenly, Red stepped into the action! But it wasn’t really Red, it was Sam-Sam playing the part of Red.

  “Laugh it up, piggies, ’cause you’re gonna be crying in a second when I kick your butts and take those rocks back to—”

  “Eggs,” Zoe interrupted Sam-Sam.

  “What?”

  “You said ‘rocks’ instead of ‘eggs’ again.”

  “Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing that.”

  “’Cause they are rocks.”

  Sam-Sam was a little upset that he kept messing up his line, so Zoe put her wing on his shoulder to comfort him.

  “Don’t cry, Sam-Sam,” she begged him. Then she got an idea. “I’ll be right back!”

  Zoe was eager to make Sam-Sam feel better and raced into her house. She passed her dad, a very large, brick-red bird with a deep beige belly, who was sitting on the couch.

  “Hey, Daddy!”

  “GRUNT,” Terence replied. He had been settling in well to his life as a family bird, married to Matilda. Or, at least, you would guess he was settling in. Terence was a bird of few (i.e., no) words, but his grunts seemed happier.

  Zoe ran into the nursery. In a crib sat three eggs. Zoe quickly gathered them up into her wings and rushed back through the house.

  “Just borrowing my sisters for a minute!” she called out to her dad, who had no response other than a low grumble.

  When Zoe was back outside, she pushed the stone “eggs” aside and replaced them with the real eggs.

  “Ha! Now we really have all your eggs!” Zoe declared. She was back to pretending to be a piggy.

  Vivi gleefully joined in. “Yeah! And there’s nothing you can do about it, Red!”

  “Laugh it up, piggies!” Sam-Sam, as Red, said triumphantly. “’Cause you’re gonna be crying in a second when I kick your butts and take your . . . uhhh.”

  Sam-Sam stopped, but not because he couldn’t remember h
is lines. He was looking at the shore. Confused about why Sam-Sam had stopped playing, Vivi and Zoe looked to see what had caught Sam-Sam’s attention on the shore.

  “Oh, crap!” Zoe shouted.

  The eggs were being carried out into the ocean by the tide! The hatchlings scrambled to save them but couldn’t get to them in time. The eggs floated off into the horizon as the hatchlings looked on in terror.

  “So what is this thing that almost killed me?” Leonard asked as piggy scientists investigated the giant ice ball that was submerged in Piggy Island Beach.

  One of the piggy scientists tried to explain the concept of water freezing.

  “What is it?” he continued. “Frozen water? Who has ever heard of frozen water? Where is my assistant? Courtney!”

  Courtney, a piggy intern, popped out one of her headphones but never looked up from her phone. “Coming!” she huffed.

  Leonard rolled his eyes as the disinterested pig brought him a file. Looking at what was inside the file, Leonard’s eyes grew bigger and bigger until he let out a gasp.

  “Wait a minute . . . is that a frozen margarita? No salt on the rim?! What kind of depraved lunatic are we dealing with here?!” Leonard was irate at what he saw in the file: a photo of a margarita.

  But who was holding that frosty beverage?

  In her lair on Eagle Island, Zeta lounged in her pool floaty, sipping her frozen slushee. The feisty eagle could really pull off a pair of sunglasses. And she knew it. Debbie, her assistant, rushed toward Zeta, fresh drink in hand, but she slipped on the . . . water? The pool itself was completely frozen. Zeta was floating on ice. All of Zeta’s realm was shrouded in ice, which was exactly the problem.

  When Zeta ate, she had to chip her meal out of a block of ice. When she brushed her teeth, she “wet” her toothbrush with ice cubes. And when she took a “hot” shower, the showerhead poured nothing but icicles. Zeta wanted nothing more than a day in the sun; something she was always trying to create, despite being surrounded by ice. It wasn’t easy.

  “Whoa! Okay, okay, just go to your happy place,” Zeta told herself, regaining her composure. “Fire another ice ball!” she instructed Debbie.

  “Uhh, Zeta,” Debbie explained, “you know that since the hit on Piggy Island the weapon is out of commission. That’s why you’re torturing the chief engineer.”