I got up this morning. Grabbed my parrot, turned on the radio and walked to the bathroom for my morning activities.
NPR news was on; probably All Things Considered. They were reading a long story on Fidel Castro. They talked about how his revolution failed, they offered a timeline of his career, they talked about his brother being next in line.
I was ready to fly to Miami to hire a real estate lawyer.
One problem; Fidel is not dead. Yet. It was just a long piece of the sort that NPR does so well.
I’ve never heard it called “grabbing the parrot” before. Cool. New euphemism.
Also, Paul, if your parrot is a good “talker” you might want to be careful about what sounds you let it hear on a regular basis. Unless, of course, the goal here is to have the parrot start making the sound of you taking your morning leak.
Some friends of mine were once in a small town in Central Pennsylvania, standing on the sidewalk, looking up at the facade of a building, and a denizen of the streets wandered by and asked them, “Lost yer parrot?”
Which of course has become a catchphrase – “Have you totally lost your parrot?” etc.
I can now tell them where the parrot went. Saudi Arabia. It all makes sense now.
OK, so let’s take this one step at a time. I have a parrot (named Onan, if you must know). My first step in my morning ritual is to turn on the radio and grab Onan. I put him on the shower curtain rod while I shave. I shave while he relives himself over the bathtub. No muss, no fuss.
This morning I was listening to NPR. In my caffeine-deprieved condition, I thought I was listening to the much-delayes obituary for Fidel Castro.
I was wrong.
Then, knowing that you all are familiar with modern Guatemalan literature, I translated the words of Tito Monterroso. In his super-short story he was referring to Fidel.
You know I can recall a time when references to Guatemalan literature could be made here without explanation. I blame the schools.
