I was talking on the phone with an old friend the other day, catching up on where our lives were at just then, after not having spoken to him in several months; we do this periodically, and our conversations always seem to just naturally pick up from right where we left them the last time we spoke. He’s a good man and a good friend.

“Did I ever tell you about my uncle Adolf?” he asked me at one point.

“Didn’t know you had an Uncle Adolf,” I replied.

“Yeah,” he says, “he was my Mom’s step-brother. He and my Aunt Helga lived just down the street from us when I was a kid. Nice man.”

“Adolf and Helga?”

“Yeah, they were Burmese.” Like that explained everything.

“Why do I have the feeling there’s a story here someplace?” I asked ruefully.

And of course there was.

Turns out Uncle Adolf was a salesman, working for a company that marketed a line of solar-powered can openers…they worked great, as long as you didn’t want to cook anything after dark. UA had a pretty big territory to cover, so he traveled a great deal, and he always felt bad about leaving Helga all by herself. They had no children, and he knew that she got lonely when he was gone.

He mentioned his concerns to his boss one day, and his boss suggested that he get Helga a pet to keep her company. Adolf thought this was a helluva an idea, and decided right then to surprise his bride with a furry (or feathery) friend.

So down to the pet store he goes, a man on a mission.

He sees the typical range of pets, dogs, kitties, gerbils, fish, parakeets, llamas, hyenas and what have you, but he wanted something unique, something out of the ordinary.

The store owner, after making several suggestions, finally says to Adolf, you know, I do have a pretty unusual parrot back in the storeroom that you might like. Adolf says, let’s see it, and off they went to the back of the store.

The store owner explained to Adolf as they walked back that this parrot had two very “unusual” characteristics…one, he could talk, and not just repeat words or phrases you taught him, but actually converse, just like a person; two, sadly, the parrot had no legs or feet, and since it was a male, it stayed on its perch by wrapping it’s, ahh, “member” around it.

Adolf wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, but he was bright enough to think that the owner was feeding him a crock of fecal matter. But sure enough, back in storeroom, sitting on his perch with his johnson wrapped around it, was Paul the Parrot.

And Paul was everything the store owner claimed him to be.

So Adolf took Paul home to Helga, and the next day left on a five-day road trip, leaving Paul and Helga to get acquainted.

The five days passed and Adolf returned home to find an empty house…Paul was there, but Helga had flown the coop, as it were.

Paul, says Adolf, where’s Helga? And the parrot starts to shake his head in disbelief and tells UA that he’s not going to believe what happened while he (UA) was out of town.

What do you mean, what happened, asks Adolf.

Oh man, says PP, getting a little worked up telling the story, practically the minute you left, there was a knock on the backdoor and in comes this guy who apparently knows Aunt Helga pretty well. REAL well in fact.

What guy, asks Adolf, now growing concerned.

PP says, yeah, some big dude, he comes in and grabs your wife and starts kissing her and hugging her and stroking her and Helga wasn’t minding it a bit, I can tell you.

What, cries UA, some guy and my wife, what the hell is that bullshit?

Paul shakes his feathery head and says, for sure, and that’s not all. They went over and sat down on the couch, and before long, says the bird, there was lots of moaning and groaning and clothes coming off and down and all sorts of other misbehavior.

Adolf is stunned, to say the least, and by now, an excitable man, he was growing very agitated. I can’t believe what you’re telling me. My Helga and some other guy? No, it’s not possible.

Oh it’s possible, says Paul, who is also growing more agitated along with UA. They were going hot and heavy for some time, and before you could say strip poker, they were both buck naked there on the couch.

WHAT! screamed Uncle Adolf, NAKED!

Yes, cries the bird, just like the day they were born…it was shocking. Next thing I knew, they both got up from the couch and headed into your bedroom.

OH MY GOD!! cried Adolf, I can’t believe this, my Helga? By now the poor guy is so overwrought he can barely speak. They went in the bedroom?

They sure did, says the bird, and laid down right there on the bed where I could see them, clear as day. Paul was by now as agitated as his owner.

My god, exclaims Adolf, then what happened?

And the parrot yells back at him, hell, I don’t know, I got a hard-on and fell off my perch.

According to my friend, Helga was never seen again, and Adolf took the parrot back to the pet store the following day and traded him in on a gerbil.

That didn’t talk…he could however juggle flaming swords, which is not typical gerbil behavior.

My friend swears this is a true story, but honestly, I don’t buy the part about a gerbil juggling flaming swords. Chainsaws maybe, but not flaming swords.

I think he was yanking my chain a little with that.

Did I tell you guys I was thinking of getting a pet?

Love and kitty litter,

Cap’n John

Post Script…did I ever tell you the story of the three-legged pig?

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