Parrot Love (South Park Style)
Last night I was holding Sonny on one hand and browsing "the interwebs" for a suitable present for someone, as Sonny decided to preen for several minutes. Then he began to polish his beak against one of my knuckles, which is something he does on a semi-regular basis (and fortunately it doesn't last too long or he'd take all the skin off) when suddenly BLARG! I had parrot puke on my thumb.
Having a parrot is kind of like being Wendy Testaburger; it seems parrots proclaim their love with gakk, much like Stan Marsh.
I wonder if this is because I fed him a tiny (REALLY TINY) nibblet of ice cream?
Having a parrot is kind of like being Wendy Testaburger; it seems parrots proclaim their love with gakk, much like Stan Marsh.
I wonder if this is because I fed him a tiny (REALLY TINY) nibblet of ice cream?