Dudley

They tell me my name is Dudley.

I eat lots of vegetables and I drink plenty of water. I eat water chestnuts, sprouts, almonds, pecans, peas, chestnuts, carrots, celery. I love lettuce! On one side of my house I have all these wonderful vegetables. They're usually cold in the morning but they warm up long before the evening when I get a fresh supply of them. On the other side of my house I have this yucky dry food. I'm not exactly sure what it is but -- despite myself -- I eat about half of it every day. I get a full serving of it in the morning but for some reason I can't quite figure out I don't get another fresh serving of it in the evenings -- you know, when it gets dark outside, "evenings" is what they call it -- like I do with the really yummy vegetables that I mentioned four sentences ago. I always get fresh water, but for the life of me, I can't understand why so much. I only drink a little bit each time but it's enough no it's plenty. Most of the time I just drop the yucky dry food in it and it dissolves and it looks like diarrhea. Even yuckier.

I look outside my house at the world beyond me all day long. Most days when the sky is bright I'm all by myself inside my house, but I can still look out. I see and hear lots and lots of birds on the shiny cords hanging across the street from me. We whistle to each other all day long. Things like wow, it's so much fun to flap our wings in the air and feel the cool winter breeze. Things like bombs away, look at that two-legged creature below scampering about because I got my white acid poop all over his black German luxury sedan with the open panoramic sunroof and the Italian special $3,400 option leather seating isn't that too bad. Things like I'm going to live for a hundred years because I'm a parrot and you're not because you're only a bluejay. Things like I can fly to any perch I want and you're stuck there in your house waiting for your big two-legged friend to come home and open the door to your house and let you perch on the top of your house or perch on his hand or perch on his sofa and if you're in a vindictive mood maybe you can Bombs Away! and get some white acid poop on his priceless oriental rug wouldn't that be a shame. Things like that. I like to sing. I can do that in my house. I don't need a shiny white cord in the sky.

I am green, I have an orange beak, and they tell me I'm a pretty bird. What's that, a bird? I like them. I don't know who them is but they give me food and they pet my back and they like me. I think they even love me.  I want to fly but when I try all I do is flap my wings and float down to the floor. I want to fly.