The Parrot

"What kind of pet should I get?"

"I don't know.  What kind do you like?"

"Birds," Bill said.  "I've always liked birds.  Do you like birds?"

"They're okay.  I'm not a big fan of their poop."

We stepped inside the pet store and smell of animal hit me immediately.  I wrinkled my nose and tried not to start coughing.  What did Bill need a pet for anyway?  He worked for 40 plus hours a week.  We went out a lot.  Why a pet?

"Maybe a fish.  You are gone a lot, Bill."

"No, I like birds."

I sighed.  Fine, let's go look at birds.  I rolled my eyes.  Seemed nothing would dissuade him now.

We went over to the bird section.  A parrot was sitting on a perch outside a cage.

"Oh, look at him," Bill said and reached to pet the parrot.

He yelped and pulled his finger back.  "He bit me."

"You're bleeding.  You're bleeding."

I started jumping up and down, flailing my arms.  The manager ran over, concerned, concerned he was going to be sued.

"You shouldn't have done that, sir.  You come in here at your own risk.  You can't sue us."

"Bandage him up," I said.

The manage brought over a paper towel and we left to take Bill to stat care.