Agnes Periwinkle, a lonely lady of indeterminate age but possessing a truly magnificent collection of ceramic frogs, decided a parrot was just the thing to brighten her days. She envisioned sunny afternoons spent chatting with a feathered friend, sharing stories of her prize-winning marmalade and the surprisingly aggressive squirrels in her garden. She named him Captain Squawk, a moniker somewhat ironic given his initial reluctance to speak.
For three weeks, Captain Squawk sulked, perched on his ornate cage, emitting only the occasional disgruntled squawk. Agnes tried everything: reading him poetry, singing opera (off-key, admittedly), even showing him reruns of her favorite soap opera. Nothing worked.
“Captain Squawk, darling,” Agnes sighed one afternoon, offering him a sunflower seed. “Why won’t you talk to me? I’m lonely!”
Captain Squawk cocked his head, a glint in his beady eye. Then, in a surprisingly deep baritone voice, he said, “Because I’m waiting for a better offer.”
Agnes stared, her jaw dropping. She fumbled for her spectacles, peering at the parrot. “A… a better offer? What do you mean?”
Captain Squawk preened a particularly vibrant feather. “Well, this cage is rather drab, the sunflower seeds are mediocre, and honestly, your marmalade is far too sweet. I’ve had offers from a nearby pirate museum. They’re promising me cracked nuts, live mice, and a much more impressive pirate-themed cage.”
Agnes gasped. “Mice? But…but I’ve been trying to make you happy! I even bought that extremely expensive seed mix!”
Captain Squawk simply shrugged his feathery shoulders. “You see, Agnes, some parrots have standards.” He paused dramatically, then added with a wink, “Besides, I hear their parrot insurance is excellent.”
