Subject: Manse Diaries: To Kill a Parakeet

Date: 28 Mar 1998 00:00:00 GMT

From: nospamum@radix.net (MegaLiz)

Organization: MotPU: Where Binary Moodswings are ALWAYS on the Menu

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free, alt.slack

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe I'll never get enough control of myself to avoid this sort of

payoff from an impulsive kindly act. I have sacrificed half of our

kitchen, the freedom of my cat and the cost of a two dollar eat-me

treat so far, AND I have every kid in the neighborhood pounding on the

front door at naptime, just to tell me that their mothers say that

they "can have it." They all want our little prisoner, you see.

 

I found him (I don't know if it is a HIM, but I say that to placate

The Rev, to give him hope that there may be another male creature in

the place) and it's a case of Finders Keepers so far. The prisoner was

squatting on my Jeep, looking very much out of place, and he was

lethargic enough that I had no difficulty grabbing him gently and

doing a quick inspection. He bit at my fingers, but otherwise didn't

put up a respectable fight.

 

He was in big trouble since his escape. He never would have lasted the

night if I left him out there: between the predators and the cool

evening ahead he was almost certainly doomed, so I improvised a cage

out of a plastic milk crate and some cardboard and tape.

 

The word quickly went out on the kid hotline and in no time at all we

had a dozen midgets of mayhem spectating and speculating. One brought

food and I gave the prisoner water and a rock to sit on.

 

In all the excitement, a stair railing was dislodged and one of the

Dominicans scraped her leg while jockeying for position. Since I am

known as Mrs. Bandaid, she wouldn't have DREAMED of going home for

first aid. I had to produce the goods and mop up her blood. Naturally,

once the bandaid box was outside, EVERYONE had a little scratch or

scab that really NEEDED one of those florescent bandages, although

when I handed them over, the chilluns ended up taping their nostrils

closed instead and crowing, "LOOKIT NEE! I CAN'T BREEDTH!" They are

nice kids, and I'm very happy they have homes to go to every single

time they appear.

 

We asked around, but no one has claimed the prisoner yet. Sparky made

an excellent FOUND sign, which we posted prominently, but Sparky is

also quietly hoping that no keeper will be calling. She sits in front

of the cage for an hour at a time redundantly announcing every time he

calls out.

 

He's very content here, I THINK. Then again he hasn't been alone with

Sally Cat yet. Or SPUNKY. Or Bobo for that matter. Heh.

 

I have developed a little model called the Living Creature Reflex

Thingy to describe the girls' reactions to critters. As an example, if

we spot an exotic-looking ant on the pavement...

 

Sparky would say, "Let's follow it and see what it does."

Spunky would say, "Move! I NEED to stomp it! I RILLY NEED TO!"

Bobo would say, "NYUM!"

 

The prisoner had better hope we get that call.

 

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"I would say DUH! when you say that, except that you told me

that's rude. So can I just whisper "duh" instead? Really quietly?

Would that be okay?" -Sparky

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