That kind of look . . .

from Girl Factory (the extended, overly-specific simile a recurrent comic device in this novel):

Immediately to my right as I entered was a lone flamingo, its pink plumage darkened to crimson by the colored lights. The shadowed hatchet of its bill, combined with its beady eyes, gave it a criminal look, the kind you might see on a guy caught while stealing car stereos, leaning up against the side of a squad car in his sweatpants and athletic shoes, waiting to be taken down to the station, booked, and then let out on bail. I wasn't sure whether this was a bad sign or a good one.