The Terrifying ‘Bearrot’

/ Diane Henders

My mind goes strange places when I’m half-awake (or half-asleep, depending on whether you’re a glass-half-full or glass-half-empty type of person). So it didn’t really surprise me when halfway through my shower, my brain announced, “Parrots! We should write a post about parrots!”

Me (grumbling into my washcloth): “What’s this ‘we’ shit? I don’t know anything about parrots. Where the hell did that random thought come from?”

Brain: “Come on, it’ll be fun! You could write about the World Parrot Refuge on Vancouver Island.”

Me (still cranky): “There was nothing funny about the refuge. It’s a cool place and it’s great that they take in unwanted parrots, but I spent the whole visit wishing I’d brought an umbrella to fend off the birdshit, and that creepy little bald cockatiel kept landing on my shoulder and cuddling up like I was his long-lost Mommy. Besides, I don’t trust any bird that’s capable of biting my finger off.”

Brain: “Oh, get over it. Parrots are amazing! They come in spectacular colours, they’re smart, they can live as long as humans, they can talk-”

Me: “Yeah, great. So now we’ve got a crafty old bird that lures you over with a display of pretty feathers and a cutesy ‘Polly want a cracker’, and then it bites your finger off!”

Brain: “Aw, come on. You can find something funny about parrots. How about Monty Python’s ‘Dead Parrot’ sketch?”

Me: “Well, there’s that…”  (returning to the debate): “But that’s the only funny thing about parrots. Forget parrots. Maybe I could blog about my bear belt; make a few jokes about how dorky I look striding around the garden with that strapped to me.”

The bear belt: Everything I need to frighten a bear through sheer dorkage.

The bear belt: Everything I need to frighten a bear through sheer dorkage.

Brain: *martyred sigh* You’ve written about bears. Over and over. Everybody’s tired of bears. And they already know you look like a dork on a regular basis. Parrots, I tell you. You need to write about parrots!”

Me: “Piss off. Parrots are scary. Those blank soulless eyes…”

Brain: “Huh. Like bears aren’t scary? But you still manage to joke about them.”

Me (weakening): “Well, yeah, but…”

Brain (sensing imminent triumph): “Bears are terrifying! Parrots are much funnier.”

Me: “True, bears are terrifying…” *tries diversionary tactic* “Hey, you know what’s the only thing that could possibly make bears scarier?”

Brain (distracted): “Huh? Bullshit. Nothing could make bears scarier.”

Me: “Oh, hellz yeah! What if…” *pauses dramatically* “…you crossed a bear with a parrot?”

Brain: *stunned silence*

Me: “Imagine it! A bear that can not only chase you and eat you on the ground; it can also fly. Swooping down on silent wings with claws and teeth bared…”

Brain: “A bearrot. The most terrifying animal to stalk the earth…”

Me: *snickering* “…and you’d really want an umbrella…”

This is what happens when I blog while not completely awake.

This is what happens when I blog while not completely awake.

44 thoughts on “The Terrifying ‘Bearrot’”

  2. Hiya all,

    As much as it looks scary, I think I would happily be eaten by the bearrot, then be in the pain I am in now.

    Found a lump, I thought spot between my breasts on Tuesday, it’s grown and got more sore every day saw my Dr on Friday rushed towards hospital that afternoon and still awaiting the op, my surgeon didnt want to leave me a scar I didn’t need but it’s got bigger and angrier all day so I think the op is tomorrow,

    Rereading your blog made me smile while I’m feeling very low

    Hugs to all

    Oh and sorry for overshareing

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  3. ! quite like the sound of this ‘bearrot’ Diane… although I wouldn’t want to meet one personally.
    And be careful when you start having conversations with your brain. Soon, very soon, it starts having conversations with itself… I know. Believe you me, I know…

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  4. The day bears start flying is the day I stop walking outside for anything.

    I’ve always kind of wanted a parrot, though. They seem like intelligent creatures, and (probably) would only bite the fingers off people who really annoy them. But I’m afraid one might pick up some of my, er, more colorful turns of phrase and repeat them when we have guests, so I’ve put off getting one.

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    • Oh, go for it! You can always tell your guests that the parrot’s previous owners were a bad influence, and you’re in the noble process of rehabilitating the bird for the good of all. The parrot can’t tell them you’re lying through your teeth. 😉

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      • We were on vacation years ago, and we’d stopped at some tourist attraction. We’d paid for our tickets and joined the end of the line for whatever we were going to do. The person in front of us in line had a solid gray parrot on his shoulder. We struck up a conversation (with the guy, not the parrot) and found that the parrot was fifty years old. The guy was forty-ish, and the parrot had come down to him from his grandfather. We were outside and stood in line for probably twenty minutes, shuffling occasionally toward whatever we were waiting to see or do. Can’t remember a thing about that, but I remember the parrot clearly. The parrot just looked around and stood there on the guy’s shoulder. Every once in a while, the bird would nuzzle the guy’s ear, and he would hold his finger up, the bird would step over and hold onto it, and the guy would move the bird over to the flower bed beside the sidewalk we were on. The bird would poop, and the guy would place it back on his shoulder. Cool stuff.

        The bird had the guy very well trained. 🙂

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        • Wow! I knew they were very smart birds, but I didn’t know they could be toilet-trained. Big point in their favour there! I guess there are so many parrots in the refuge because people buy them thinking they’re a neat pet without realizing they’re a lifetime commitment… or beyond, like your gray acquaintance. I guess I’ve been turned off birds as pets because the only bird owners I’ve known let their birds fly free in the house and all their floors and counters and furniture were covered with white splotches. Bleah.

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  6. I actually slipped in bear poop last Sunday. I was checking out the neighbor’s apple trees and wasn’t watching where I was walking. At least I kept my balance and didn’t land in it and by the time I got home the bottom of my shoe was cleaned off. Bears have way more volume than parrots.

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  7. Holey cows! Ya got me. Did NOT see that coming. Phlayming hysterical.

    We have DRAFT peeking out from behind the edge of the time line! And so it begins. All the angst and impatience and hassling you about dragging your feet. Yay, it all begins again!

    I love this part! If I can’t actually read the novel, the next best thing is to hassle you about it! 🙂

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    • Glad you got a (surprised) chuckle! And hassle away – it won’t do any good, but it’ll amuse both of us! (Unless, of course, I intentionally slow my writing speed just to watch you self-combust. That would likely amuse only me.) 😉

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        • Besides, if you slow down too much, I doubt if I’ll be the only one who self-combusts. (Or maybe comBURSTs. We may have just invented the term that applies to writers who can’t let it all out fast enough. Ya think?)

          News reporter: A three-alarm fire broke out a while ago, and the structure was a total loss. No bodies have been recovered, but at least one person was known to have been in the building. Can you tell us what happened, sir?

          Bystander: Yeppers, I shore kin. They wuz this here riter up in there, see? She wuz goin’ on alla time, gripin’ and raisin’ sand about not bein’ able to tipe as fast as she yoosta cud. Sumpin about nightmares about a awrthritik parrot or flyin’ bear or some sich. Personal, I thank sheed bin smokin’ summa them shriveled-up zooks that wuz left over after that blue norther blode throo a kuppla weeks or too ago, is whut I thank.

          News reporter: Uh, I see, er, I think. So, what does all this have to do with the structure fire, sir?

          Bystander: I jus tole ya! She was all konstipated-up from not bein’ able to rite as fast as she needed to, so she just blode plum up! Kawt far and just blode plum up. I seen this all buffore, ya no. Yeppers, iss ear sorter stuff yoosta happen alla time, sept it happend to them funny paper kawrtune drawer folks. But ya dont see at sorter stuff much no more cuz the funny papers is smaller now then thay yoosta bee, ya no.

          News reporter: Uh, thank you, sir. Well, there you have it. Back to you at the station, Bucky!

          🙂

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