Flower

Captain Morgan’s Parrot

 

In the winter of 1997 my grandmother stole a parakeet from our local exotic pet shop (next to Ted’s Laundromat off of Kaisley street). Her being allergic to anything with fur, I only had turtles and lizards during my late 20′s so a bird was a welcome change in our household.

I’ll never forget the day we got her. We were at KoKoi’s Exotic Petshop, returning some hermit crabs (Grandma literally thought the crabs would remain in their shells their entire lifespan. One morning when she saw one scoot around the cage she got pissed). Sally (our soon to be new pet) along with some beautiful parrots were all sitting on a rack, completely open to the public. The owner encouraged shoppers to feed the birds seeds and see if they could make the parrots talk. When my grandma saw Sally she instantly fell in love. “What the hell is that bird’s name?” she asked the owner. “Oh! I call her Dellia” he replied with a hint of pride in his voice. “What are you, fucking retarded?” Grandma questioned while slowly making her way to the birds. The owner gave us both a handful of seeds and explained how the parrots only knew cuss words. Apparently, one afternoon a rabbit bit a young woman’s finger and she yelled out a bunch of foul words. “Fuck you” one parrot said to my grandmother, taking a sunflower seed from her hand. “She sure is a pretty thing, ain’t she?” Grandma asked the store owner, not expecting a response. “I’ll give you my entire Matlock DVD collection for this one” she continued, gently stroking the bird’s head. “I’m sorry mam, we only accept cash here”, the owner claimed while pushing a few kids away from the fish tanks. I felt a slight jab in my ribs as my grandmother poked me with her elbow. She quickly winked at me with a smile that let me knew she was up to something. In a moment’s notice grandma quickly yelled out, “Oh dear, my boob fell out! My boob fell out!”. As I turned away from the birds I realized one of my grandmother’s breasts had fallen out of her shirt. “Quickly, my dear child, take my purse and fetch Gammie’s bra from the front seat” she begged me, her face red in embarrassment. I took her purse and ran towards the car. As I rummaged through the empty vodka bottles and prescription containers, the car started. I looked up to find Grandma hastily fastening her seatbelt, yelling at me to get in the car. Before I could sit down, the car sped off, my foot barely avoiding being crushed in the closing door. She began laughing hysterically and asked, “where’s my purse?”. “Right here, Grandma, why?”, I answered, watching to make sure we weren’t being followed. “Open it”, she beckoned, lighting a cigarette. Inside her purse was Sally, a small parakeet I had noticed next to the parrots. “We can’t just steal animals from pet stores, Grandma, it’s against the law”. “We’ll I can do whatever the hell I want, young man. I’m old and old people are better and wiser than any of you young kids. Grow up ya pussy”, she explained to me, flicking ashes onto the floor of our car (she thought the window was slightly cracked but it wasn’t). Besides defecating on any and everything in our entire home, Sally was a welcome member to our family. In the mornings she would sing beautiful bird music. Sometimes she would spend all day hiding in my grandmother’s hair. When company came to visit, Sally would land on their shoulder, bite their earlobe and then fly into the other room with a smile on her face. On some mornings when I wouldn’t wake up, grandma would place a small pile of bird seed on my stomach. Sally would gently land on me and nibble at the bird seed, causing me to wake up (not wearing any underwear while I slept, I lost a lot of pubes during Sally’s stay). Yes, having a bird around the house can make for a wonderful pet. You have to learn how to eat all meals rather quickly (in case of a “fly by”) but all in all, the beautiful bird music at 5 o’clock in the morning is reason enough to own one.

And the reason I’m talking about birds is because of the documentary The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. I have no clue when this movie came out (yes, I could search right now and see, but I don’t want to…it’s Saturday for crying out loud!) but it’s a must watch documentary that I highly recommend you take the time to view. It’s not even an hour and a half long so if you’re reading this and bored out of your mind (you must be, why else would you be here?! HAHAHA!!), rent the movie and enjoy. There’s a few sad moments so watch it with your wife/girlfriend/sissy boyfriend and score some points!

 

AppAttack :D

2 Responses to “Captain Morgan’s Parrot”

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