I have pretty poor judgement.
I have yet to kill these parakeets, Big Bird and Blue (aka Doug) but now I hate them and wish they would die.
Isn't that always the way? You want something to live...it dies. You want something to die, it lives.
Lesson learned.
Idea: Say you really hated someone and had to give that person's child a gift. Immediately we think of drums. I'll do you one better...get em a couple of parakeets.
Reasons:
1. They NEVER shut the FUCK up.
2. They tell you to throw a blanket over them, tell them it's night time and they should sleep. Mine are like FUCK RIGHT OFF I know you are still awake! TWEET TWEET TWEET
3. Parakeets wish they were roosters. Crack of dawn. TWEETfuckTWEETyouTWEEThaTWEEThaTWEEThaTWEETha
4. They eat thier seeds and throw the seed shells OUT of the cage. Everyday.
5. They can also launch their shit out of the cage.
5a. Onto walls.
5b. And onto each other.
6. I mean what else is there? Oh, I know, the reason why people get pets. To come home and say, "Aw, my pet! Hi there, pet! I love you! You love me, too? This makes it all worth while! The shit, the mess, the noise - it matters not!"
Except every time I merely approach the cage they puff up their feathers, lift one leg uncomfortably and LITERALLY shit themselves.
I don't know, maybe they think I will fry them up for dinner. Who knows? I'd rather starve than eat them - that is how much I hate them now.
'
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