The Pious Parrot

There was a bald clergyman who regularly went to Santo Niño village every Sunday to celebrate a mass. The villagers respected him in all aspects. Due to overwhelming respect, no one from them could ever utter the word ‘bald’ though the clergyman would not think of it as an insult if somebody would say it.

One Sunday noon just after the mass, three villagers invited the clergyman to drink with them in a rickety hut owned by one of them. Worried they might not attend the mass on the next Sunday, the clergyman accepted the invitation.

They drained three gallons of coconut wine within just three hours. A record-breaking in the history of the village.

They came out of the hut, hiccuping and walking unsteadily over the weedy passage that led to the rough and dusty road. Along the road, they dragged their feet and passed by a hut in which all parts were built from coconut trees. The walls and the roof were made from interlaced coconut leaves and the post on the corners was coconut lumber. Perching on the window was a beautiful parrot.

“Bald! Bald! Bald!” the parrot squawked. It was a sound that’s hard to determine by anyone drunk. To a sober’s perception, it was a sound almost the same as a midget lady’s angry shrill.

They turned and looked to where the insulting sound had come. But, they saw no one.

“Bald!” Another shrill jolted them. It made the three villagers angry.

They had searched in the place for a few moments until they noticed the parrot walking like a slumped old man on the window sill. Its multi-colored feathers just made them feel dizzier. And, they felt vertigo more when the parrot ridiculed the clergyman again.

“Minister, the parrot!” cried the first drunk.

“Never mind it,” said the clergyman. “It’s just a bird.”

“No! It insulted you. It needs to be punished!” said the second drunk.

The clergyman shook his head and went ahead thinking that they all followed him.

The effect of the coconut wine in the third drunk’s head instructed him to seize the parrot. And so, he held it up and cut the leash.

The three drunks stripped off the parrot’s feathers. They plucked the blue and green quills on both wings. They extracted the red, orange, and yellow feathers on the parrot’s butt. Every single feather that swayed in the air to the ground, the parrot felt the pain and let out an agonizing cry. It pecked and clawed their callous hands but the coconut wine made them numb. They strangled and held its feet to suspend its futile revenge. They laugh at it.

When the only left in the parrot’s body was the thick yellow feathers from its neck up to its head and its green crest and some mature feathers which were hard to pull out on its back, the third drunk tossed the parrot away. It struggled to fly but it just dropped hard to the ground.

Its owner didn’t have any idea what happened to his pet. Besides, had he known it, he would do nothing to salvage it. He also respected the clergyman and maybe he would also punish it.

Shivering, the pitiful parrot hopped in the direction of the chapel.

The dusk had loomed in the eastern sky. The air that lingered around Santo Niño had become cooler. It carried a smell of fish from the nearby beach. The parrot got inside the chapel through the back door which the devotees had forgotten to close earlier.

The parrot needed to keep itself warm and secure; to find a thing that could shroud its naked body against the air and the predators like wild cats and huge rats. It found a suitable place. It was the wooden statue of Santo Niño, the patron saint of the village. The statue stood over the altar on the right side of the chapel, opposite from the altar of the Holy Cross.

The Santo Niño or better known as the Child Jesus was dressed with a red gown embroidered from a thick abaca hem. Sewn on the gown were golden flowers designed from foil. Over the head was a golden crown with a cross in its center. Gripped on the left hand was a red baton with a gold design. The right hand was suspended in the air with his two fingers stood out to make a sign of peace for Christians. At his back, dangled his black braid down to the red coat with a golden outline. And on the back of the neck, almost covered with a collar, was a hole enough for a bird, the parrot size, to get into the hollow body.

For six days the parrot stayed inside the statue. It only went out to the chapel’s yard early in the morning to hunt for food like earthworms or rice bran that had been blown away by air from the nearby huts. During that short period, its feathers had slowly grown. Now it could proudly spread its colorful wings and fly low in the air. It had been quiet during those days; for it was afraid its owner or someone might hear and see it. But it was just enough. It did not yet leave the holy place for it had a plan it must fulfill.

Sunday came. In the morning the parrot did not come out because the women in the village arrived early to clean the chapel in preparation of the mass.

When the clergyman appeared on the chapel’s gates in the mid-morning, the villagers in their casual attire had already been seated inside. He went in. The three villagers who had been drunk with him last Sunday were sitting in front. When the clergyman put his attaché case, which contained the bread and wine (not coconut wine) for the communion on the table beside the tabernacle, one villager who was always serving him in the mass and was called by many as his acolyte, assisted him to the altar.

The clergyman started the mass. Unlike the mass celebrated by ordained priests, it was not a formal mass. Not all hymns and songs were sung. They were stated rather. The reading from the bible was about the story of Lot; the time when God punished Sodom and Gomorrah and turned them and all the settlers into salt. It was an interesting read to all of them except for the little children, of course. They had listened with their hearts over the mind.

The sermon of the clergyman followed. After almost an hour, he finished it with persuasive preaching. Some men from the devotees, including the three in front, bowed their heads, perhaps to repent for their sins.

The offering came. Then, the Holy Communion followed. Finally, the clergyman ended the mass with the sign of the cross and a holy word of bringing Christ with them home.

The parrot had heard the mass, detail by detail. It had listened to the bible reading, the sermon, the monotone hymns and songs, and even the clattering of footsteps in the queue during communion. And now it heard the footsteps and murmurs, slowly fading away, as the devotees went out. And, it heard another conversation which rose around the chapel.

“I’m sorry my good friends,” the clergyman apologized. “I would not be able to join your celebration. I have a mass to attend to in San Roque. The clergyman assigned there is sick. He asked me to substitute just for today.” He clutched his attaché case. “I must leave now, my good friends. Till next Sunday.”

The three villagers were disappointed, but the disappointment had not been apparent in their faces until the clergyman was out of the chapel and silence roamed around them.

“Good friends.” It was a little voice inside a well that strove to be heard. A voice of a midget yet with sameness to a child’s.

The one who was nearest to the altar squinted and tended to his ear in the direction of the voice. “Have you heard that?” he whispered.

The other two froze and looked at each other with questions. They glanced at the first one and looked around in wonder.

“You listen to me, good friends!” the little voice said.

They looked stunned as their eyes searched about. They had heard it and now they heard it again.

“I’m your god!”

They gaped at the statue of Santo Niño and were astonished at what they learned. The voice came from the statue of Child Jesus and surprisingly it was a child’s voice. They observed the lips but it did not move. There was a tiny hole in it. The voice came out from it, they thought. And they also thought it was the Holy Spirit alive inside the statue. The nearest one stepped towards it, shaking.

“Don’t come near!” said the statue. “Kneel if you want to be saved from the fires of hell!”

They could not believe it, but it was clear that the statue was talking. They did not want to go to hell. Kneeling is a very simple task. Anyone can do it. They followed what the statue had said.

The third one was now sobbing in fear. Perhaps he was the most sinful among them. “My God forgive all my sins. Please forgive me, my lord, please forgive me. Spare me from hell.”

“You will all go to hell like the people of Sodom and Gomorrah if you won’t follow what I say!”

“Yes, my lord.” They said simultaneously.

“We do what you tell us.” The second one’s voice quaked.

“Everything I tell you?” asked the statue.

“Yes, yes, yes,” they said as they nodded eagerly.

“Alright,” said the statue. “Confess to me your sins. Have you looked into women other than your wives?”

They looked at each other, hesitant to tell the truth. They turned back to the holy statue and nodded slowly.

“Alright. With that, I will punish you.”

“What are you going to do with us, my lord?” said the first one who had plucked the parrot’s feathers last Sunday.

“You will become like the people in Sodom and Gomorrah!” shouted the parrot.

“Please, my lord, give us a chance.” they pleaded.

“We will not do womanizing anymore.” The first one glanced at the two at his sides for agreement.

“Yes, yes, yes, our Lord,” agreed the two as they nodded rapidly.

“Alright. For the punishment of your sins, I will put a light one,” the parrot paused, “an appropriate punishment.”

They looked at each other, looked up at the talking statue, and looked up into the ceiling to think of what the punishment might be.

“Are you ready, sinners?” said the parrot. “I want you to stand up.”

They stood up.

“I want you to strip down your pants.”

They did not want to do it at first. They were too shy to show the part between their thighs, that thing that had caused their sins. But they must take the punishment, otherwise, they would become salt and die and vanish without a trace and leave their families and their mistresses.

They were pointing to who among them would lead in pushing down his pants.

“If you won’t do it, I will transform all of you into salt. Do it now!” It was a forceful tiny voice.

They hurriedly unzipped and slid down their pants, their underwear still on.

“Take off your underwear!” commanded the sacred statue. “Or I will turn you into salt now.”

The tiny voice had rattled them more. They indeed slid down their underwear, showing off their sinful organs and pubic hair. They both frowned in disgust.

“Now, I want you to huddle off. Face on each other! Now!”

They huddled off, ashamed of each other. Their faces twisted in disgrace.

“Closer!”

They moved closer, two feet away from each other.

“As punishment for your carnal sins,” declared the parrot, “I want you to pull out the pubic hairs of the one in front of you. Pull them all out. I don’t want a single hair to stay. I want the pubic area to be cleared off, clear as the clergyman’s crown. Or I will transform you into salt.”

They had no choice but to accept and perform the painful punishment than to turn into salt and die.

Their faces writhed in pain every time one drew out pubic hair. They were angered when each of them caused more pain to another, so they took revenge by pulling more hairs.

Sweat and tears dropped to the floor where curly thick hairs scattered. The three villagers stood straight and sighed with satisfaction. They were done with the punishment, finally.

The statue was now quiet. The only sound in the chapel was the heavy breathing of the sinners. They moved to face the statue to show that they were done. The statue’s painted eyes were staring at them like it was saying ‘good’.

“We’re done, my lord.” said the first one proudly.

There was no response.

They stared at each other, eyes almost fell out.

Sudden flaps disturbed the stillness. It was a beautiful parrot. Its feet stiffly clamped the arms of the cross over the statue’s crown.

“Revenge is mine! Revenge is mine! Revenge is mine!” The parrot cackled with absolute indulgence.

Forgetting to put back their underwear and pants on, the three villagers jumped off to capture the parrot but they were outbalanced and fell to the floor.

The parrot flew away. Its newly grown and wonderful wings fanned in the air. It fleeted across the open door. The three villagers pursued it. But the parrot soared away into the bushes, into the forest, into a place away from people like the inconsiderate villagers. And on its wings bore the attainment of its revenge.