She Has A Fucking Bird Day!

Everything about her seemed perfect. She's got a lot of money and she drinks constantly. You should've known it was too good to be true.

"This is Arnold. Say hello."

You peer through the little bars into the eyes of the perfect yellow parakeet, trying to steady your drunken legs, afraid you might fall over and grab at the cage for balance. You take half a step back to get the bedpost within reach.

"Say hello I said."

"Hello. Arnold, hello."

Arnold doesn't say anything.

She says, "Arnold is the most important thing in my life."

You sit on the bed, remembering how good the sex had been in your tiny apartment following the first two dates. You can't wait to get into her place and see what a trust fund can buy. You discover that it can buy an average apartment with an additional small alcove room that could be used as a study or extra storage. In this case, extra storage.

"My soul's in there."

"What?"

She puts the tip of her finger in between the bars of the cage. Arnold pokes at it with his beak. "Inside that little yellow body. When Arnold flutters his wings, my stomach grows unsettled. He contains my essence."

Why do you keep your essence locked up in a cage, often blinded by a white lace-fringed doily?

"That's nice."

"Did you see the way he just looked at you?"

No. Is he taking a shit?

"Arnold is uncertain of you. I can't have sex in here tonight."

"Should we go back to my..."

"Lay here on the bed by my side but don't touch me. Arnold has to absorb you."

You lay on the bed, so terribly disappointed in yourself. From the pillow, "Do you have anything to drink?"

She goes to the kitchen and returns with an unopened bottle of vodka and two glasses. "I don't have any limes."

You drink with the lights on bright. You don't speak. Arnold holds her soul motionless on his perch, occasionally crying out for no discernable reason. Birds cry out from time to time.

Happy She Has A Fucking Bird Day!