The Burmese Budgie (A Magpie Tale)

It was a wednesday, usually the quietest day of the week.  It was late and I'd just poured myself a glass of the hard stuff - ice.

There was a tap on the window.  I'd never understood why they'd installed a tap on the window, but there it was - still dripping despite all my best attempts at tightening the faucet on the glass.

She opened the door and stood there in the shadows for a moment.  There was something under her arm.  It could have been a duck, or a goose: even a large chicken.  I immediately suspected fowl play.

She raised her arm and rolled her eyes at me.  I picked them up, gave them a polish and rolled them back.  They were the kind of eyes you might see on a big poster: wide and inviting.

She asked me to take her case, but I couldn't - I had to tell her my wardrobe was already full of cases.  She shook her head and sighed, showing me the bird.  It definitely wasn't a chicken then.  I would have shown her the door at that point, but I was pretty sure that she'd seen the door on her way in and that the view wasn't any better from this side.

Finally, and after much argument, I at least agreed to look after the creature whilst she was out of town.  Maybe that way I'd have time to decipher the message the bird was trying to sqwalk at me.

Still, whatever else happened that weekend: and whether she returned or not: now that I had her pet with me I could at least say that whatever else we'd shared - we'd always have Parrots