ThisTakesTooLongToType

I’m at yet another Starbucks in Pico Rivera today, (gotta’ love the T-Mobile hotspot at 40 f***ing dollars a month but I need it for work because aircards are more expensive and don’t come with a coffee frapaccino). Anyway, this guy walks out of the Starbucks and I see he has a parrot on his shoulder. Odd. He didn’t have a hook for a hand, a peg leg and neither one of his eyes were covered by a black patch. His hat was completely devoid of plumage; in fact, the bill was only one single jetty shooting straight forward. I would have been satisfied with a ruffled shirt and Pittsburgh hat. Nope. Nothing. Not even bad teeth, (as far as I could tell).

Anyway, so this guy walks out of Starbucks with a parrot on his shoulder, (stop me if you’ve heard this one before), and fishes for the keys in his pants. He does manage to grapple the keys in a particularly odd fashion and pulls them from his pocket with a single key squeezed between his first and second digits. The keys drop to the ground and he quickly stoops to pick them off the ground, (apparently forgetting that he his pet parrot Polly is perched precariously and pecking playfully upon his shoulder). The bird panics in his abrupt decent crying fowl…err…foul and digs it’s talons into the man and begins to flap his wings to help steady himself, (the bird, not the man). The man calms the bird by slowly and painfully rising back to normal height, (not sure what that is for a bird but Polly seemed quite content at at about six feet high). The man then ushered the bird to his other shoulder while blood slowly oozed from the man’s new found appreciation for his birds strength and proceeded to discover his wound while pet Polly the Parrot peed and shat down the back of the bleeding man.

Yeah, who needs that?

Best,

David