The Parrot

At dawn the telephone rings.
"Hello, Senor Rod. This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your country home"
"Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?"
"Um, I am just calling to advise you, Senor Rod, that your parrot, he is dead".
"My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?"
"Si, Senor, that's the one."
"Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?"
"From eating the rotten meat, Senor Rod."
"Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?"
"Nobody, Senor. He ate the meat of the dead horse."
"Dead horse? What dead horse?"
"The thoroughbred, Senor Rod."
"My prize thoroughbred is dead?"
"Yes, Senor Rod, he died from all that work pulling the water cart."
"Are you insane? What water cart?"
"The one we used to put out the fire, Senor."
"Good Lord! What fire are you talking about, man?"
"The one at your house, Senor! A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire."
"What the hell? Are you saying that my mansion is destroyed because of a candle?!"
"Yes, Senor Rod."
"But there's electricity at the house! What was the candle for?"
"For the funeral, Senor Rod."
"WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL??!!"
"Your wife's, Senor Rod". She showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new Ping G15 204g titanium head golf club with the TFC149D graphite shaft."

SILENCE........... LONG SILENCE.........VERY LONG SILENCE.

"Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep ****."

THE ENGINEER AND THE PARROT

This engineer gets his annual performance appraisal, during which his boss seems critical about an apparent shortcoming in his ability to relate to other people. Realizing that there may be some truth to this as he's lived alone all of his adult life and concerned about his career, the engineer ponders what he might do about this problem. As he is driving home from work that evening he passes a pet shop. Nothing new about this, of course, as he takes the very same route home from work every day, but today is different. The lights go on, the buzzers go off, and he says out loud to himself, "I know! I'll get a pet! I'll train myself to relate to my pet and that will help me relate to the people I work with."

Entering the pet shop, he is instantly bewildered by the sheer variety of pet options available to him. He wanders aimlessly through the shop gazing at the dogs, cats, iguanas, ferrets, fish, birds, snakes, etc. The engineer finds himself thoroughly perplexed. What kind of pet will best help him relate to people? He is standing silently pondering this problem, when a voice behind him says, "Good afternoon, sir. My, but you do look confused. Perhaps I can be of assistance to you." He turns around expecting to see the proprietor, but instead there is nobody there but more pets. Looking around quickly, he verifies that he is the only human in the immediate vicinity. "Oh great," he says to himself, "Now I'm hearing voices."

"No sir, you're not hearing voices," says the same voice. "It is I who am speaking to you." Suddenly the engineer realized that it is a beautifully beplumed parrot who is talking to him. "Uh," says the engineer intelligently, "But you're a parrot." "Well of course I'm a parrot," replies the bird, "But I'm classically trained. I've a working knowledge of subatomic particle physics, astrophysics, cosmology, aeronautical engineering, electrical engineering, psychology and sociology, literature, classical music, jazz, and poetry. In addition I am quite conversant on a great many other topics." Flabbergasted, the engineer is unable to speak. "Ah," says the bird insightfully, "Having a bit of trouble relating, are you? If I might be so bold, I might suggest that I would make an ideal companion for a man such as yourself." Regaining his voice, the engineer says, "Good grief, you're right! Where is the owner of this shop?" "I think he's in the back room at the moment," says the parrot. "Around the corner where the angel fish are, and straight back."

Finding the back room, the engineer calls for the proprietor. An animated discussion ensues about the parrot, with the proprietor confirming the bird's claims of technical and classical training. The engineer has decided and is reaching for his checkbook when the proprietor states the selling price of the marvelous parrot: $3,500. "Oh geeze, I don't think I want to pay that much for a pet," responds the engineer. "He's a wonderful creature," says the proprietor, "Keeps me entertained every day. But he's not actually one of a kind." "You mean there are more birds like him?" inquires the engineer curiously. "Yes, in fact I have another parrot with the exact training here in the back room. He doesn't speak quite as clearly as the bird you've met because of a rare misalignment of the upper and lower portions of his beak. He's over here..."

The proprietor leads the engineer over to another beautifully feathered parrot sitting on a perch. "G'day, sir!" says this new bird. "Peraps I could bee of sum surface to you." "Uh, hello," says the engineer. "See how is upper and lower beaks are misaligned?" says the proprietor? It's that the upper beak has a slight protrusion that causes the two halves not to meet properly. I just haven't gotten around to filing the protrusion off. When I do, he'll be worth as much as the bird out front." Sensing an opportunity, the engineer says, "How much for him as-is?" "Oh a thousand dollars, I guess. He's had all of the training the other bird has, it's just that it's hard to take him seriously with that speech impediment." "Sold!" says the engineer. I can easily file the beak myself." Cautioning the eager engineer, the proprietor warns him that his is a very valuable bird and that the filing must be done with utmost care. "You file too deep and you'll hit a blood vessel and kill him. Don't kill this bird like that!" he warned the engineer sternly. "Oh, don't worry. I'm an engineer!"

Money changes hands and the engineer is now the owner of a marvelous animal that is certain to enrich his life and help him relate to people and the world around him. The proprietor warns him again about the filing, "Don't kill that bird!" and the engineer and his new friend go home together.

The next day the engineer returns to the pet shop. He looks dejected, defeated, embarrassed, and depressed. The proprietor takes one look at him and exclaims, "You killed the bird! After all my warnings, you killed that marvelous parrot!" The engineer hangs his head and nods in silent misery. "You filed too deep, didn't you? You filed too deep, and you made that poor animal bleed to death!" shouted the proprietor. "No, I didn't file too deeply," said the engineer with no less misery, "I didn't even get that far." "What then? What happened?" demanded the shop owner. "How did you kill him?"

"I crushed his head in the vise."

It's 1944. An American convoy is traversing the dangerous north Atlantic en route to England. There are troop ships and cargo ships, and of course destroyer escorts to hunt German U-boats, and there is a lone USO ship. The USO has arranged for all kinds of entertainment for the American toops. There are singers, dancers, comedy acts, magic acts, animal acts, a swing band and a jazz band.

In the night a periscope emerges from the cold, inky Atlantic waters, takes a bearing, and disappears. Minutes later the periscope reemerges, and then two torpedoes are fired toward one of the ships of the convoy. As luck would have it, the ship of least military importance is targeted: the USO ship. One fish hits amidships, the spine of the ship is broken, and the USO ship slips quickly beneath the surface. Only a relatively unknown starlet and a parrot from one of the animal acts survive.

Clinging resolutely to the same piece of wreckage, the two survivers endure esposure to the elements without a word spoken between them. Days go buy on the empty ocean, and they stoically endure in silence. Finally the parrot can take it no more. Breaking the silence he asks, "Hey honey, how's your ass?"

"SHUT UP!" growles the fussy starlet.

"Mine, too!" replies the parrot. "It must be the salt water."