Me + One Scarlet Macaw + Two Crazy Bears = A much happier me!

That morning, I awoke … and saw my life was pointless. I was failing 9th grade. I didn't have a boyfriend. I didn't even have any friends who wanted to go hang out with me in an empty parking lot behind that out-of-business sawmill, or anything like that that would give me some illusion of happiness.

I was nearsighted, had acne, and my hair resembled a haystack. I mean, come on. Can this get any worse?

Let me make it clear, when you're fifteen and living in a small town with no jobs and equally no part-time jobs to apply to, life isn't exactly full of options. (I tried!)

Yet, somehow, that day, I decided to take charge.

So I began wandering the nearby streets past all of the cracked-up houses with those post-it notes on the mailboxes saying "For Sale" or "Seeking Mortgage Reduction". And I saw one that read: "For Sale: Scarlet Macaw".

Now, I had never seen a Scarlet Macaw in my life. But I had heard, they are beautiful birds with bright red feathers and blue wings so shiny they look wet at some angles."

So I knew that this was it. This Macaw would be my darling, with his wings spread wide to catch me as I fell off of my bike and other things like that.

I went up to the door and knocked.

The old man who answered the door looked like he was at least 150 years old (he most likely wasn't; it's just when you're a depressed teenager, every old man looks to be much older than he actually is).

"Hi," I said. "I would like to buy your Scarlet Macaw. How much?"

"Not for sale," the old man said, "They can't be sold."

"Oh," I said. "Could I just see him, then?"

"He's dead," said the man, shutting the door in my face. (The door was old too but in a pretty way).

So then I knew exactly what I had to do: steal that Scarlet Macaw.

I walked around the side of the house in search of a window, but it was tough because it's not simple to see where windows are when you're already exhausted after trekking for hours through a desolated town full of overgrown grass until one catches your interest.

I did find a window, though, and peeked inside.

The small room had a dirty ceiling and was filled with old boards, iron hooks, and old locks. There's a rickety metal bed in the corner covered in threadbare blankets.

The Macaw sat on a rustic table right in the middle of the room. His left eye, bright and round, beamed at me like an intense halogen bulb. Then, I knew he wanted me to take him away from that crackhouse.

"You want to leave?" I asked him and he just nodded because Macaws sometimes can feel shy too.

"Good," I said, "I'm going to take you with me."

***

The next thing I know, we were at my place, and I had given the Macaw a bath and shampooed all of those beautiful scarlet feathers that made him look lIke he was drenched in a juicy raspberry jam.

Now, some people might think this is weird, but I love birds. They're all pure and innocent and not at all interested in me as anything other than a source of food or shelter or companionship.

But the weirdest thing that happened was when I turned around to get a towel to dry him off: suddenly, my house started getting ransacked by two Brown Bears. Now, I love animals, as I said, but I'm not really into having them in my home when it is almost time to go sleep.

"Get out!" I screamed, flailing my hand in the Bears' direction like a fool because 'do they ever listen?' No, they don't.

So then one of the Bears, the dark brown, looked at me, almost sarcastically.

"This Scarlet Macaw is ours," he said in a voice that sounded like it came from the bottom of the ocean. "We want to take him back."

"He is mine," I said. "He wants to be mine."

To which, the Bear just laughed with one of those laughs that make your blood run cold as if saying, "We'll see about that. HA-HA-HA."

"He's mine!" the Macaw shouted, flapping his wings.

That was when I looked down and saw him wearing one of my stilettos on his left foot. The pointy red one, pure leather, with a little golden clasp on the side. I got that pair at the Goodwill store on the 8th street for $2.50 on final sale, and I kept them under my bed so they'd be safe from thieves which obviously meant they were not safe at all.

"Scarlet Macaw!" I said sternly, "Give me back my shoe!"

"My shoe!" he parroted me, sounding like a belligerent toddler.

But I can scream too. I went: "GIVE IT BACK TO ME RIGHT NOW OR I'LL GRAB YOU BY YOUR TAILFEATHERS AND TOSS YOU ALL THE WAY BACK TO THE JUNGLE!"

Right then, the Bears started getting annoyed, I could see that, and they began screeching at me about how I was inhospitable and how they were going to eat my stupid red shoes for dinner now because they were hungry.

"Oh, let's eat!" I offered, a bit embarrassed that all I have in my cupboard is a dried-up macaroni and cheese in a box.

"Well," said one of the Bears, light brown, who looked very sleepy, "I guess that'll be okay."

"But only if I can eat your shoes!" The Macaw yelled from the floor. And everyone was silent for a moment and next thing everyone started laughing. Everyone but me.

I didn't think that was funny at all, first.

Then I looked around and began to laugh along with everyone else. Something shifted within me; something had changed.

"Is that how you feel when you're no longer sad?" I asked myself. "Wow," I thought. "SWEET!" 😊

* * *

Dear Readers, thank you for reading! I write mostly about love and the meaning of life. Feel free to share stories with your loved ones. I also read my writing at public events as a professional performer. Special Thanks to Pamela Mayer — my tireless friend, editor, and collaborator.