Parrot Talk by Seaburn David B

Author:Seaburn, David B.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2017-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

15

Grinder stood at the motel room window watching scores of Pirate fans scurrying across Clemente Bridge. Leisure crafts were tying up on nearby docks and fans in lesser boats were huddling in the river, hoping that sometime during the game a homerun would reach them. The lights at PNC Park were already on and the stands were bustling, like popcorn popping in a bowl. Grinder reached up to Paul, who was perched on Grinder’s head, to offer him some green grapes. “Yuuuuum!” cried Paul as he scarfed them up one after another.

Grinder caressed Paul’s back, hunting for fresh pinfeathers. “Getting you appetite back, are you? Good boy.”

Paul hopped up and down on Grinder’s head and whistled. Then he jumped down onto Grinder’s shoulder and pecked his left ear gently. “What the…” Then he launched into the air, but immediately smacked into the sliding glass door and skidded down its moistened surface.

“God, Paul, are you okay?” Grinder tried to pick him up, but Paul, though slightly dazed, was off again. He circled the room a couple of times like a wounded drone.

“Stay away from the glass.” Grinder reached, but Paul eluded him. “C’mon, Paul. Stay away from the glass.” Grinder stumbled around the room, hands over his head. “C’mon, Paul, I’m tellin’ you.” But Paul, apparently convinced that blue sky awaited him, bounced off the glass again.

“Calm down now, buddy, calm down.” Grinder spoke low and steady, much as he did when he discovered a road kill that wasn’t quite dead. He would kneel by the animal and if it allowed him, he would pet it. If it was agitated or afraid, he would sit close and speak softly until it didn’t move. Paul leaned against the dresser, stunned. “You’re okay.” Paul threw his head back and forth as he wobbled to and fro. “Okay, okay, take your time.” His beak was wide open like he was sucking air after a marathon. “That’s it, breathe deep. Shhhh.” Grinder reached out with one finger and ran it down Paul’s head and back. “There you go.” Grinder moved closer. He ran his hand down Paul’s cherry-red tail and then tapped him gently on his jet-black beak. Paul was quiet and nearly still. He turned his head to Grinder and then nodded.

Grinder scratched his neck as if he were a dog. “Do you like that?” Paul nodded again. Grinder tossed a grape into the air and caught it in his own mouth. Then he tossed one to Paul who caught it effortlessly. Grinder high-fived him on the beak. Then they were both quiet for a long while.

“Twenty years, you and Ma. That’s a long time.” Grinder gazed at Paul expectantly, but Paul was busy with another grape. “I had eleven.” Bits of skin and tiny seeds were falling from Paul’s mouth. He reached for another and another. “But I’ve missed her longer than you have.”

Paul began to cough and gag. “Are you okay?” Paul’s stubby black tongue hung out, his feathers went flat as a cheap toupee.

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