... 11-07-08
We had rescued an ancient parrot from the ship, and the first week we kept it in the office. Birds aren't that good at sums and such, but they're really pretty good at reading moods, which mainly means they'll do what they can to get under your skin rather than even you out: The joke's always on you.
More and more the parrot sidled closer to me and watched me with his eons-stained eye. It wasn't the kind of beast you would want to pat or coddle and I was never one for enticing animals with treats. So, well, there he was, without any encouragement on my part, trying to badger me into laughing at myself.
I was working on plans for a hotel in upstate New York, and because I was bored and the client irritated me, I put in an extensive tunnel system accessible from the wine cellar that led out to the back of a waterfall at a nearby river. I set a date in the future to raid the cellar and have a picnic behind the falls. The whole time the Admiral was pecking at the chelenque that decorated my hat with his broken beak. The bird's breath was like rotting melons.
"Guilty conscience! Best good girl! Midnight oil! Toe the line! Stand and deliver! "
"I don't think so, asshole."
"Admiral!"
"Admiral Asshole, it is."
The bird began to tear things up if he wasn't with me, and the kind of people who were more willing to take in an ugly old bird such as Double-A were the kind whose feelings were more readily hurt by his constant niggling and insults. So, he was my "pet," or, I was some kind of loosely-held captive of his. He was actually handy at driving away people I'd rather not talk to; it was his one concession to cooperation with me, except when he wanted to play matchmaker.
Although I was assured he was a "he" -- his big scaly purple coxcomb was said to be the definitive sign -- he had an odd habit of laying eggs whenever he was overexcited. It was weird that each egg looked as old as he was -- they looked tattooed and gessoed over, heiroglyphics and runes, several layers deep, were scratched into their worn out, chipped nacre.
Each time, he'd look at me and say, "What're you gonna do with it?"
"What do you want to do with it, Double-A?"
"Pickle it!"
More and more the parrot sidled closer to me and watched me with his eons-stained eye. It wasn't the kind of beast you would want to pat or coddle and I was never one for enticing animals with treats. So, well, there he was, without any encouragement on my part, trying to badger me into laughing at myself.
I was working on plans for a hotel in upstate New York, and because I was bored and the client irritated me, I put in an extensive tunnel system accessible from the wine cellar that led out to the back of a waterfall at a nearby river. I set a date in the future to raid the cellar and have a picnic behind the falls. The whole time the Admiral was pecking at the chelenque that decorated my hat with his broken beak. The bird's breath was like rotting melons.
"Guilty conscience! Best good girl! Midnight oil! Toe the line! Stand and deliver! "
"I don't think so, asshole."
"Admiral!"
"Admiral Asshole, it is."
The bird began to tear things up if he wasn't with me, and the kind of people who were more willing to take in an ugly old bird such as Double-A were the kind whose feelings were more readily hurt by his constant niggling and insults. So, he was my "pet," or, I was some kind of loosely-held captive of his. He was actually handy at driving away people I'd rather not talk to; it was his one concession to cooperation with me, except when he wanted to play matchmaker.
Although I was assured he was a "he" -- his big scaly purple coxcomb was said to be the definitive sign -- he had an odd habit of laying eggs whenever he was overexcited. It was weird that each egg looked as old as he was -- they looked tattooed and gessoed over, heiroglyphics and runes, several layers deep, were scratched into their worn out, chipped nacre.
Each time, he'd look at me and say, "What're you gonna do with it?"
"What do you want to do with it, Double-A?"
"Pickle it!"
posted by Constance X at 10:49 PM
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