Parable: Friendship

Some tragedies are big; some very small.

Here’s a parrot whose two feet were caught

in an elevator door. Doesn’t this happen often?

He was humming a tune or thinking about lunch,

when his feet were snipped from his legs.

He was a flightless New Zealand Owl Parrot

named Buzzy, who was passed down over

sixty years to Ralphie, his present owner.

So how did he get by without feet? Buzzy

learned to grip his perch with his little red

parrot prick, allowing him to stay up late

with Ralphie over a beer and good baseball chat

before Ralphie left for work at midnight. But

his wife hated Buzzy and his little red prick,

and she didn’t like Ralphie much either. You know

how these troubles begin. The wife took up

with a ne’er-do-well for sexual relief, and after

midnight the fellow snuck through the back door

so he and the wife could smooch on the couch

at least at the start. Then in the morning Buzzy

would give Ralphie the latest report: how

the lover and wife made the couch pulsate

like an earthquake as they probed the depths

of passion. But here’s the sad part of the story.

One morning Ralphie found his friend with his head

tucked under his wing. What’s up? said Ralphie.

Buzzy didn’t speak. Tell me, said Ralphie. Nope,

croaked Buzzy. This went on till Ralphie swore

he’d lock his friend in a closet. Okay, said Buzzy,

first they kissed. Go on, said Ralphie. Next he

squeezed her breasts. It’s not true! cried Ralphie.

It was a long story, better imagined than told.

At last the parrot squawked, Then he tore off

her lacy, pink thong. Keep going! cried Ralphie.

I can’t, moaned Buzzy. Why not? said Ralphie.

Because, said the parrot, I fell off my perch.

Here the joke always stops. But who ever thinks

of the parrot’s feelings? His job with Ralphie

was his first work in sixty years and he’d failed.

I did my best! cried Buzzy. But Ralphie no longer

bothered about Buzzy and his little red prick,

and he grabbed his hat and ran from the house.

Could Buzzy comfort his friend? Not a chance.

Consider how life can take a complete flip

in two seconds. First we’ve got the heavens,

then comes the abyss. Even if Ralphie forgave

the parrot, they’d share no more beer and

good baseball chat. He’d always see the hurt

in Ralphie’s eye. The warmth would depart

from his heart. The parrot would be ignored.

Could he crawl to the street and be crushed

by a bus? Quite unlikely. Say he leapt to the floor,

what could he do? With just a little red prick

to navigate, he’d flop about like a trout out of water.

If this were the President, books would be written

on the subject. But since it’s only a parrot why

should it matter? Days passed as Buzzy gazed

at the ceiling in confused thought: a brain full

of zeros, a heart full of holes. In a nicer world

Buzzy might get a tear or kindly pat on the back,

but now he’s just a sob behind a closed door.

Let’s face it. Who’s blameless, who’s blessed,

who’s punished, who’s cursed—it’s a tossup.