You Look Stupid
I stare at my sixty-eight-year-old grandmother in disbelief.
You got a parrot, Grandma?
She nods, pleased.
Do you have any idea how long a parrot lives?
I hope he outlives me, she says.
I think that is a given.
I look it up.
Parrots live between eighty and a hundred years.
Isn’t he adorable? She asks me.
He gives me a hard beak look.
Outstares me.
I love him! She says.
If I die first, you will take care of him, right?
I have never liked birds after the Alfred Hitchcock movie.
I take a closer look at the feathered fiend.
Under my breath I say “you look stupid.”
“YOU LOOK STUPID!” he yells at me.
Oh, yes, I will take care of him.
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