My Servants

I live with two people who serve me as their Queen.

Darkman is a Jamaican Kikuyu and he started called me Gathuku, which means 'Parrot' in his language. These people got no imagination. He likes to tell me that I got no respect because I SCREECH, SCREECH SCREECH, and I poop whenever and wherever I want. I AM THE QUEEN. I think they are learning that a little bit. He really isn't too bad, though. He gives me some really yummy food, something called Deluxe Parrot Mix. Sometimes he gives me chicken or bread with all kinds of nuts and seeds. If he really wants to bow to me, he'll give me pizza!!!!!!!!!!!!! But no matter how sweet and nice and quiet and loving and affectionate I become, he won't give me chocolate. If I want that, I have to hunt it down and confiscate it. So far, in all these years, I've only been successful twice, but I keep trying.

Actually he's pretty nice. Fatlady is something else. She is my drudge. She cleans my home - you call it a cage - where I sleep at night. I never go there except to eat and sleep and sometimes go outside. It's too small to be very comfortable and anyway, I'd rather be out and about! OK, I barely tolerate her except to sit on her shoulder while I tell her what to write. She has no sense of humour at all. When I nip her ear - not a real bite, you know, no blood - she screams and runs around and shakes her shoulder until I fly off. So excitable, this Fatlady. Funny, though, she doesn't get mad when I poop on her. Dark man would freak out.

There they are. Would you be able to tolerate those two as your subjects? You see how every liberal I am to put up with them.

This is me with Fatlady on the right. Immediately after taking this picture I bit her hand, as she so richly deserved.

SQUAWK!!! SQUAWK!!! SQUAWK!!! SQUAWK!!!