You can rest your head on this down pillow

Sometimes it’s refreshing to take a gander into our own lives and put it on display for the amusement of others; my journal seems to be filling with self-deprecating humor these days. Sometimes it’s interesting to trod unsolicited into the lives of our friends and make gross sweeping assumptions to the determent of all. I suppose there’s a word for this, and intrusion will do as good as any.

Today I intend to do neither, but instead will allow you to peer into the true-life story a co-worker shared with me nearly a decade ago. Our story comes from Tim P., as told to him by his neighbor who was laughing so hard tears were rolling down his face. This is just one of those things that sounds too incredible to be true, but is and alas, if I don’t do my civic duty to capture it here and now, it could become lost before future generations can enjoy.

This is one of those stories that require the reader to have two important skills. The first being the ability to visualize every detail, and the second to play it in their mind as fast as possible again and again in order to appreciate what Tim’s friend was feeling.

Tim’s neighbor is this guy who’s married. The spouse apparently has two strange attributes that are found in more and more people these days. First of all, she enjoys exotic animals. Secondly, she considers her pet children. This latter point is an absolute necessity for keeping in the forefront of your mind as the events unravel. It’s fairly clear, however, that this couple isn’t exactly always on the same page and was perhaps the role model couple for War of the Roses.

The wife happens to own a parrot. Not just any parrot, but a really exotic, expensive one. It’s huge, it’s got long colorful feathers, it knows several tricks, and it talks. Perhaps so much so it pisses the husband off, but there’s not a thing he can do about it.

Things go pretty well for the first decade or so with the parrot. Strong and impressive these creatures, they have a very long life span. Once you get a parrot, you pretty much have him for life. They have their own personality, and this woman adopted him in her mind as if he were a child, babying it and babbling right back at it.

Over a period of several months they noticed that the parrot was developing a wart on its beak. The parrot was impressive, but the newly formed blemish was just something the woman couldn’t tolerate.

Skipping the details of getting the parrot to the vet, it turns out the wart was benign and could easily be removed via a surgical procedure. Leaving the wart on, however, would pose no health risk to the bird.

Debate ensued between the couple about whether or not hard earned money should be spent on such frivolous things such as cosmetic fowl wart removal for peer acceptance.

Infuriated by his uncompassionate logic and that he refused to look upon this screeching imitator as his own flesh and blood, she stood her ground until eventually he consented to paying for the operation for peace of mind alone.

The day for the operation arrived, and the couple took the parrot to the vet (do I even need to mention he was coerced into attending to provide moral support for the bird).

“It’s actually quite a simple procedure,” explained the vet. “First we knock out the bird, then we cauterize the wart, and then cut it off. Your bird will be as good as new in a couple of hours.”

The couple was nervous (who are we kidding, she was nervous). “You can be there for the whole thing, it shouldn’t take more than ten minutes,” added the vet to reassure them further.

So, everyone went into the little operating room.

First they gave the bird an injection, and the bird started acting drunk, then sleepy, and eventually plopped over.

“Where can I get a vial of that stuff?” asked the man. Sure, the vet smiled, but his wife merely shot him the look from hell. Taking his cue, he shut up.

The vet reached over and grabbed a wand-like device, which was used for pumping electricity from the tip to a point of contact. He slowly leaned over the bird, and touched it to the wart.

It turns out the step the vet skipped was to check the machine delivering the amperage. He thought the nurse set it. She thought he had.

The next set of events can only be truly appreciated in slow motion…

The moment the wand got near the bird, in the first few nanoseconds an arc jumped from the tip of the wand to the bird’s wart making a bright blue crack. All the bird’s muscles contracted at once. So much so in fact, that all the bird’s feathers shot out in an instantaneous Technicolor explosion as high as the ceiling. Milliseconds later the bird, somehow woken by the event, vaporized, though not before getting off some kind of parrot like squawk.

Rewind. Normal speed.

POOF! There was an astounding cracking arc that illuminated the whole room, just as a squawk was followed by a bang as the bird exploded into thousands of feathers, large and small. Every color of the rain forest started falling around them, as if by magic happy fairies. Apparently parrots have tiny feathers under the big ones and they take quite a while to fall.

For a moment there was silence as the vet was still frozen there in time, electrode hovering over the empty space where the parrot had just transported to the Enterprise. “I’ve never seen it do that before. Cool.” And the nurse, trying to conceal giggles, was tapping the machine commenting “oops.” The husband did the only thing he could do, he doubled over and laughing his ass off.

Apparently, that’s where Tim came into the picture. The husband was looking for a sofa to sleep on that night and was willing to trade the tale of the day’s events for lodging.

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