Chapter 4Parrot From Hell: My Buddy's Revenge

That afternoon, Anne came out of the study with her phone in hand.

"Joe, I checked with the friend who sold me the parrot. He said its previous owner was an elderly woman. She had a habit of rambling all day, so it probably picked up those words from her."

"Oh." I flipped through a magazine on the couch without looking up.

"He said it'll get better after a while. If you say more nice things to it, it'll learn them."

"Okay."

Anne hesitated, then added, "Don't keep ignoring it. The more you ignore it, the more it'll keep saying those awful things. Talk to it more."

I set the magazine aside and looked at her. "Darling, are you seriously asking me to chat with a parrot that keeps insulting me?"

"It's just a bird!" she snapped. "It doesn't even know what the words mean. Why are you taking it so seriously?"

"I'm not."

"Then, why won't you talk to it?"

I parted my lips to answer, then thought better of it.

That was exactly how it had been in my past life. Every disagreement ended with me conceding. I loved her, and I didn't want to argue. I just kept telling myself that if I just endured a little longer, things would get better.

In the end, I held on until I was gone.

"Fine." I stood up. "I'll talk to it."

I walked to the coffee table and crouched down to the parrot's level.

"Pecky," I called its name.

It tilted its head and studied me.

"Say something nice."

It opened its beak and squawked, "So ugly."

"Try again."

"Go to hell."

Anne laughed beside me. "See? It's responding to you."

I didn't smile.

"Why don't you teach me a few nice phrases?"

Anne stepped forward and gently moved me aside.

"Like this." She turned to the cage and said, with a gentleness I had never known her to possess, "Pecky, say hello."

The parrot cocked its head, ignoring her.

"Hello," she repeated patiently.

"Hello."

This time, the parrot echoed her.

Anne beamed. "See? There's nothing wrong with the parrot."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what she meant. I was the one with the issue.

She said nothing else. She just turned and disappeared into the study.

I stood there in front of the coffee table, watching the parrot in its cage.

Its eyes were fixed on the study door, and I saw everything in it—anticipation, yearning, and love.

It was waiting for Anne to come back, because whatever lived inside that feathered body loved her.

After I died in my previous life, the two of them had finally been together.

I crouched down and lightly tapped the cage. The parrot turned to look at me.

"You don't have to wait," I said softly. "She's gone."

It tilted its head again, as though trying to understand what I'd meant.

I stood and returned to the bedroom. After closing the door, I leaned against it, pulled out my phone, and searched for parrot training services.

The call connected almost immediately.

A crisp, businesslike voice answered, "Hello, Avlon Parrot Training Center."

"I've got a grey parrot that won't stop telling me to go to hell, and so ugly. Can you do something about it?"

"Yes. Our primary solution involves a mirror cage, paired with positive reinforcement."

"Mirror cage?"

"It's a cage lined with mirrors on all sides. The bird experiences mild stress, and during that time, we play positive words repeatedly at high frequency. Normally, the cursing stops within a few days."

"Will it be distressed?"

"Some distress is normal. It's part of the process. Don't worry. Our professional trainers monitor the bird the entire time, so it won't be harmed."

I paused for a moment.

"Fine. I'll bring it in next Monday. Full boarding."

The call ended, and I found myself standing alone in the dim bedroom, still clutching the phone.

Through the window, a breeze slipped in and softly lifted the curtains.

That parrot had spent six months in my past life telling me to go to hell and so ugly, every single day, until it finally got exactly what it wanted.

This time, I would place it in a cage of mirrors, where it could spend every hour staring at itself.