Let me preface this story with a disclaimer: this is not the best piece of fiction ever written by Yours Truly. Also, it contains material of a graphic nature, despite it's innocent title. It is a fable of the most mediocre regard. See comments from this post for the material.
MARGITE THE PARAKEET
Margite the parakeet had discovered a secret. The worse she was, the better she looked. The meaner she was to the other birds, the shinier her feathers became.
As these matters usually go, Margite's discovery was purely accidental. She hadn't always been a mean bird. She was once sweet, considerate, and kind. Other birds would praise her lovely singing voice, and she was invited to perform at the fancy parties where the penguins catered, and the peacocks performed Baroque dances.
It was at such a party that Margite fell into her discovery, literally. She was about to go onstage when a jittery chickadee ran right in front of her, tripping Margite and scuffing her freshly preened plumage. It was in this moment of frenzy and frustration that Margite came undone. She yelled a curse word at the chickadee. Then she said some bad things about her mother.
As Margite eventually calmed down, she looked down to see that her feathers were spotless. Not only were they spotless, they shone brighter than ever. Margite thought it was odd, but she had a show to perform, so out onstage she went.
Later that night, in her dressing room, Margite noticed that her favourite cheese was missing from the cheese platter. She yelled at the penguin until he waddled away to find her some gouda. When he returned with a lovely cheese platter, Margite was not satisfied, and she demanded some nacho chips with
melted cheese and guacamole made with extra-vibrant
avacado. She looked in the mirror with the lights all around it, and she noticed her complexion was as clear as crystal. She had
a nice rye and coke after an irish car bomb to celebrate her new-found beauty, and she slapped the flamingo bartender instead of giving him a tip.
On her way home that night, she noticed some
footprints in the snow, and she promptly knocked on her neighbour's door and asked how dare he walk on her smooth, white snow and mar it with his imperfect gait. The neighbour huffed and slammed the door in her face (which she deserved), so she karate chopped his
porch swing, just because. She hurried home to go look at herself again to see how much brighter her feathers gleamed.
Margite could not believe how much her eyes shone after she had insulted her neighbour and damaged his property. She immediately picked up the phone to call her boyfriend so he could come bask in her beauty. She heard his cell phone ring in the closet.
To her great surprise, Jack was already home! She walked over and opened the closet door to find his corpse slumped over a pile of laundry.
Margite was horrified. She heard a noise in the kitchen, and realized that the murderer was still in the house! She started to run towards the door, but a chickadee grabbed her by the throat and whispered, "You were mean to me, and now I've been mean to you. Your boyfriend is dead because of your cruelty. I will not kill you, but I will scar you for life, so you will never be beautiful again." With that, the chickadee cut out Margite's left eye, and flew out the front door.
While in the veterinary hospital, Margite the parakeet was dreadful to the nurses, hurling insults at them every chance she got. However, her cruelty did not have the desired effect. Yes, her feathers became bright and shiny, and yes, her complexion was clear, but nothing could fix the gaping hole where her left eye had been.
She tried to play a game of
barrel of monkeys, but only having one eye greatly hampered her depth perception. When she lost another $5 to the nurse she was playing against, she was not mean. She was not angry. She merely said, "Good game. Next week, let's play Pirates. I'll bring my eye-patch, and you can be the parrot that sits on my shoulder." They laughed at this joke together. Then the nurse said, would you like me to read you a story, and Margite said, yes, that would be delightful, and the nurse began, "
The fireplace was still warm, and Jamie knew the owners could not be far..." and Margite drifted off to sleep because she was on a lot of morphine.
The moral of the story: you can be mean if it makes you pretty, but your boyfriend might die.
--THE END--
"Dead Touareg Rolling"
