. . .

Science really chaps my hide

So, I swear, there I was, in the middle of the city, and... no. Let me do this differently.

The story you about to hear is, if not quite true, at least a comfortable lie. A comfortable lie is always easier to deal with than the truth, anyhow. Admit it.

So I was walking around downtown a while back. It was getting late, ad I was in the mood to get some sleep, but wanted one last dance beforehand. So I stepped inside Atomic to get my bearings. A new band was playing there. I forget what they called themselves at the time. They were pretty good, nothing special, except for the lead singer. He was amazing. He was also a parrot.

I figured it had to be a gimmick. Someone lipsynching backstage. I was soon persuaded otherwise by the way the parrot held the mike and sang, sweet and low, straight into it, and the way he cued the other bandmembers with a few brief motions of his talons. The last number was a cover of "Sapphire Bullets of Pure Love", and I swear, the girls in the audience would be all over him, if it hadn't been for the fact that he was a large bird.

After the set I went over to chat with the bartender, who I knew casually, while watching the band take down the instruments. She noticed my interest and offered to introduce me. In a short time I was shaking hands with Tom, Sara... and Jake. Jake was the parrot.

I made a few of the laudatory comments appropriate at these moments, they responded quite well, and we all ended up deciding to go get a snack at Magnolia's. No one there seemed at all surprised by Jake. He was apparently a regular there.