(no subject)
(This popped out of my head today. I cleaned some of the gross afterbirth crap off it, fed it a little, and finally set it down here on magic electronic paper. Don't hurt it. It's puny and fragile and misshapen. Hurt me instead. I am large and fragile and will make cooler breaking noises.)
Warning: The following is a case of parrot nerd humor. You will probably not find the following funny unless you are a parrot nerd, and even then some parts may not be truly accurate, in which case nobody would find them very funny. Should this be the case, I ask you to consider that, according to modern science, there are an infinite variety of possible parallel universes, and that in at least one other universe all of this material does, in fact, recognizably fit these parrot species as we know them, and is funny, and I have a million dollars and dozens of eager nubile lovers satisfying my every preference. So. Onward.
It's the year 3000. Humanity has managed to get itself killed -- except for a few stragglers in nature preserves -- but parrots have achieved sentience and taken over. In a moment of triumph, the Beyond Air Society has launched a successful mission into the furthest reaches of space, and returned with a curious alien artifact! It's a pale translucent green and creates a rainbow of flashing lights when touched.
The Great World Flock convenes delegates for hearings on what to do with this discovery.
The MACAW delegate insists that the artifact be broken open at once, and the innards examined and put to immediate use. He is difficult to debate on this point, as he responds to counterarguments by bellowing challenges at his opponent and sometimes breaking the podium.
The COCKATOO delegate would like to see if there are any hidden buttons or switches on the artifact that we haven't found yet, or maybe if we can twist the artifact to see if that will make it unscrew or something, or if there's any parts that slide around or act as catches or keys, or failing that maybe we can break it open like the macaw says and then see if there's any gears or levers inside to twist and turn. The delegate debates vigorously (at times violently) but doesn't want any hard feelings, calling for a group hug at least four times an hour.
TheBUDGERIGARisallowedtospeakofcoursebutnobodyquiteunderstandswhatthehellheissaying.
The AMAZON delegate fails to show up; she's holding a massive rock concert elsewhere commemorating the discovery of the artifact. The concert involves 100-foot-high speakers, an absurdly gaudy oversized mock-up of the artifact itself, enough guitar destruction to test the limits of avian endurance, and most of all: wet t-shirt contests, more wet t-shirt contests, and did I mention the wet t-shirt contests. (The music ranges from so-called "Jimmy-Buffet-style" to "Morbid-Angel-style".) The other delegates sullenly refuse to even mention the amazon's absence; most of them are simply jealous.
The COCKATIEL delegate won't stay in her damn seat for more than five minutes at a time.
The QUAKER delegate uses the convention as an opportunity to voice his misgivings about sending missions into deep space in the first place: "I don't want any aliens out there thinking of us as being invasive." He is quite startled by loud groans from his audience.
The ECLECTUS delegate is well-spoken and watches the proceedings with the intensity of a statue, but he's unable to contribute much to the discussion because his cell-phone keeps ringing. All of the calls are obviously coming from the same person, and his side of these conversations consists entirely of "yes, dear," "no, dear," "I agree, dear," "I will, dear," "don't worry, dear, I'll remember," and "I love you, dear."
The AFRICAN GREY delegate apologizes for arriving late; he's been taking a lot of time on his speech. With a fixed stare, he eloquently asserts that this "artifact" is surely some sort of radioactive device, or a poison pellet slowly leaching deadly fumes into the surrounding area, or the egg of a terrible unknown monster ready to hatch at any moment, or perhaps just a bomb. He urges that the artifact, whatever it is, be put in a place far, far away from everybody; after pausing and thinking for a moment, he suggests that the artifact then be extensively probed, tested, and analyzed with remote-controlled robots. Or with trained humans, in a pinch.
Warning: The following is a case of parrot nerd humor. You will probably not find the following funny unless you are a parrot nerd, and even then some parts may not be truly accurate, in which case nobody would find them very funny. Should this be the case, I ask you to consider that, according to modern science, there are an infinite variety of possible parallel universes, and that in at least one other universe all of this material does, in fact, recognizably fit these parrot species as we know them, and is funny, and I have a million dollars and dozens of eager nubile lovers satisfying my every preference. So. Onward.
It's the year 3000. Humanity has managed to get itself killed -- except for a few stragglers in nature preserves -- but parrots have achieved sentience and taken over. In a moment of triumph, the Beyond Air Society has launched a successful mission into the furthest reaches of space, and returned with a curious alien artifact! It's a pale translucent green and creates a rainbow of flashing lights when touched.
The Great World Flock convenes delegates for hearings on what to do with this discovery.
The MACAW delegate insists that the artifact be broken open at once, and the innards examined and put to immediate use. He is difficult to debate on this point, as he responds to counterarguments by bellowing challenges at his opponent and sometimes breaking the podium.
The COCKATOO delegate would like to see if there are any hidden buttons or switches on the artifact that we haven't found yet, or maybe if we can twist the artifact to see if that will make it unscrew or something, or if there's any parts that slide around or act as catches or keys, or failing that maybe we can break it open like the macaw says and then see if there's any gears or levers inside to twist and turn. The delegate debates vigorously (at times violently) but doesn't want any hard feelings, calling for a group hug at least four times an hour.
TheBUDGERIGARisallowedtospeakofcoursebutnobodyquiteunderstandswhatthehellheissaying.
The AMAZON delegate fails to show up; she's holding a massive rock concert elsewhere commemorating the discovery of the artifact. The concert involves 100-foot-high speakers, an absurdly gaudy oversized mock-up of the artifact itself, enough guitar destruction to test the limits of avian endurance, and most of all: wet t-shirt contests, more wet t-shirt contests, and did I mention the wet t-shirt contests. (The music ranges from so-called "Jimmy-Buffet-style" to "Morbid-Angel-style".) The other delegates sullenly refuse to even mention the amazon's absence; most of them are simply jealous.
The COCKATIEL delegate won't stay in her damn seat for more than five minutes at a time.
The QUAKER delegate uses the convention as an opportunity to voice his misgivings about sending missions into deep space in the first place: "I don't want any aliens out there thinking of us as being invasive." He is quite startled by loud groans from his audience.
The ECLECTUS delegate is well-spoken and watches the proceedings with the intensity of a statue, but he's unable to contribute much to the discussion because his cell-phone keeps ringing. All of the calls are obviously coming from the same person, and his side of these conversations consists entirely of "yes, dear," "no, dear," "I agree, dear," "I will, dear," "don't worry, dear, I'll remember," and "I love you, dear."
The AFRICAN GREY delegate apologizes for arriving late; he's been taking a lot of time on his speech. With a fixed stare, he eloquently asserts that this "artifact" is surely some sort of radioactive device, or a poison pellet slowly leaching deadly fumes into the surrounding area, or the egg of a terrible unknown monster ready to hatch at any moment, or perhaps just a bomb. He urges that the artifact, whatever it is, be put in a place far, far away from everybody; after pausing and thinking for a moment, he suggests that the artifact then be extensively probed, tested, and analyzed with remote-controlled robots. Or with trained humans, in a pinch.