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by Norman
Rated: E · Poetry · Entertainment · #2229496
He squawked and talked all day and night
The pesky parrot squawked and squawked.
He made an awful din.
I tried to calm the poor bird down,
but I just couldn’t win.

He squawked and talked all day and night.
I thought he’d never stop.
He wore my patience to a nub.
I finally blew my top.

I asked him, “What is wrong with you?
Why can’t you go to bed?”
“I don’t want crackers anymore.
I want corned beef instead.

“Corned beef on rye with mustard, too.
Yeah, that is what I crave.”
I told him I would get him some
if only he’d behave.

The deli is not far from me,
so I went for a ride.
I bought a sandwich for the bird
and swallowed back my pride.

Did the parrot thank me then?
Hell no, that bird is fickle.
He simply said, “Where are the fries?
What happened to the pickle?”

It’s my own fault; I know that.
I taught him how to speak.
But I won't hear him for a while.
I just duct-taped his beak.

Man, this sandwich is good.
© Copyright 2020 Norman (jimmynee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2229496-The-Parrot