Victor Alberto Bueno Marichal: The Strange Case Of The Parrot That Got Blurry

The Strange Case Of The Parrot That Got Blurry

A man wakes up, puts on the coffee pot, takes a bath, has something from the fridge for breakfast, drinks coffee, empties his guts, gets dressed, lifts the cover off a bird's cage, puts food and water on it, and almost yells at it: Good morning parrot, another day of life begins, at least there is water and food.

The parrot undazzles, sings its speech that sounds like good morning, and he can see in the iris of the parrot's eyes that it still hasn't forgotten him.

That is the routine since the owner of the parrot died, he clings to the script, for the same reason that he clings to the handrail of the stairs: As a precaution.

He has been a member of the fanatics club of a soccer team, he has been a father, a husband, an employee, skeptical but kind, and he has never had the fanatical complicity necessary to be a member of a political party, but now he is old, widowed, retired, and knows that he has no more roles or is not interested in playing in the society movie, as the great comedian Benítez del Tordal used to say.

He has also been an alcoholic as long as he only has had the responsibility of leading his life. He has been able to get rid of alcohol only when he was responsible for someone else's life. There is only a parrot between him and loneliness, and he knows that without the cane of alcohol he has never been able to walk the boring paths of the desert of loneliness, as the great poet Guariez Tellerio said.

At this age one becomes disillusioned with enthusiasm, he has written in his diary.

He is sixty-five years old, and has already given up writing his autobiography from his diary entries because he knows that it would be excessively boring.

He came to keep three full diaries, but when lost them in a move, he decided not to look for them too much, because there was nothing original or funny in them.

At night the routine is easier. He looks at the parrot's eyes, examines it and does not notice any signs of illness, and says: see you tomorrow parrot. Cover the cage, the parrot never says anything, and he goes to the bathroom to urinate, brush his teeth, look at himself in the mirror and say : Another day, let rest.

When his wife died, he was tempted by the idea of freeing the parrot to join the bands of wild parrots that roam the parks and have taken over the fruit trees, but given the parrot's placid nature and advanced age, he abandoned the idea. because he was almost certain that the parrot were not going to be accepted in any of them, and although the parrot would make his most electrifying speeches when one of those gangs was hanging around his building, and it seemed that it would take advantage of the slightest inadvertence to blow himself up, whenever he had forgot to close the cage door, the parrot had never escaped. The parrot is like me, he told himself, it won't be able to stand freedom.

He has even forgotten the Pater Noster, but he begs God not to let him fall into the temptation of alcohol, and that if he does let him fall, that he does not let him become a ridiculous crying drunk, and that if that is his irrepressible desire, then at least let him answer the phone calls or emails and chats that their children could make him with normality and kindness. He has deleted their contacts on his phone so as not to have the temptation to call them. “Holy remedial” he said to himself when he did so, he also said “Amen”.

In bed, he surfs the web until he gets sleepy, he has rarely fallen asleep without first putting the computers that require it to hibernate, but in any case, he has carefully configured the screen saver and power saving options to all of them.

He has never dreamed of the parrot. He sometimes dreams of his wife and his children, but the little he remembers of his dreams does not cause him any uneasiness.

Everything repeats as normal as a year, until one Sunday when uncovering the parrot, he notices that it begins to blur, everything else he can see fine, he takes a photo of the parrot and there is no way that the autofocus from the camera of his phone can take a clear photo of the parrot, he tried the professional mode and he couldn't focus either, it makes him want to have the strongest drink he has, but he only has coffee and since it's Sunday the liquor stores are closed. He can order pizza with beer, but he knows that his thirst is for vodka of the strongest. Three large cups of coffee and six cigarettes later, the parrot is still blurry. He decides to go out and as a precaution he leaves all his cards and only takes money for a taxi.

He looks at his reflection in the stained glass windows, in the mirrors that he finds. He is clear as always, he tries with the people he knows, nobody notices anything strange about him, he plays several games of chess, wins and loses with the same people as always, and nobody is surprised by anything he says or does, he asks for the favour to a friend who is a nurse to look for a piece of garbage that fell into his eye and takes the opportunity to focus on her closely. Everything clear, he decides to return to his apartment and not look for alcohol in bars,

neither in the secret places where acquaintances can buy all the alcohol they can afford even if the government opposes to it.

He opens the door, goes to the balcony and there is the parrot, increasingly blurry singing his twilight speech loud and clear against the background of a purple sunset over the city that is becoming increasingly violent and cruel without having to check the statistics from the emergency rooms of any hospital. He goes to the bathroom and sits in the sink to think with a cup of coffee and a freshly opened box of cigarettes. He checks himself in the mirror, everything is normal, he returns to the balcony, he says: see you tomorrow to the blurry parrot, covers the cage and goes to the desk to search in the web for any syndrome or mental illness that makes one start to see something blurry or a particular animal. Nothing. He goes to bed and continues searching until he falls asleep without putting the computers to hibernate.

He wakes up on a normal Monday, half rainy, the news are not more alarming than normal, but there are four things that break the routine:

A- He dreamed of the parrot

B- He is afraid of going to uncover his cage.

C-he doesn't feel like going to the bathroom.

D- He doesn't feel like having breakfast

He decides to find a vet that is close to him.

The only one who can attend to him that same day is called Angelicals Pets As If From Other Worlds Sicky. He fills out the form:

Pet type: Parrot.

Pet's gender: I don't know (undefined)

Pet breed: I don't know.

Pet's name: I don't remember.

Greeting for the pet: Parrot.

Symptoms: Discoloration.

The symptoms make the pet aggressive or cause stress or depression: No. No. No.

Diarrhea: no

Frequent urination: No.

Vomiting: no

Will you accompany your pet during the exam or do you require a specialized companion: Yes. No.

Do you want a bath, hairdresser, nail clipping, teeth brushing, massage, company of the opposite gender, beauty treatments, or makeup: No.No.No.No.No.No.No.No.

The appointment is scheduled for half past two.

He remembers the dream with the parrot: The parrot said goodbye to him from the platform of a train station in Germany where he had passed through more than twenty years ago.

He realizes that he forgot to eat dinner, but he doesn't feel like breakfast and decides to have only coffee instead. He puts on the coffee pot.

He goes to the balcony and uncovers the parrot, the beak is almost invisible, he covers it again.

He forces himself to eat something, he eats the orange that was in the back of the tray below the fridge, one more day and he would have had to throw it away

He spends the whole morning paying and moving money between accounts.

At two fifteen he sits in an armchair in the vet's waiting room, he is surrounded by people older than him, with animals uglier than his parrot, and he doesn't feel like talking to anyone.

At two thirty-one he approaches the receptionist and introduces himself since the receptionist hasn't called him.

The receptionist tells him that he must wait because the vets are busy.

--There are several emergencies--he tells him in a confidential tone--you can take your pet to the socialization room, but I see that it's a bird, and I haven't seen any pass by.

--As the song that is so unforgettable says: I'm going to be here and I'm going to look at you.

--I've never heard it, but sit down and I'll call you.

At six past three, next to her, a fat lady, probably older than him, who has been staring at him shamelessly, and who has the most pedantic persian cat he's ever seen sitting on her lap, says:

-- Your bird doesn't sing much.

"No, but I think it's a poet or a politician because it makes tremendous speeches" he replied, looking carefully at the cat, who yawned out of boredom when it realized he was looking at it.

The fat woman was going to continue talking, but the receptionist called her and said goodbye saying:

---I don't know if the total inclusive family therapy service is available for birds, but it has been very beneficial for us, I recommend it to you.

It was only then that he could see the most insignificant guy, with the most watery and doggy eyes that he had ever seen in his life, who was surely her husband. He didn't feel like talking and didn't answer anything.

At three twenty the receptionist calls him, tells him the number of the office, the floor and the name of the veterinarian, also tells him how to get to the elevators, he notes everything on his phone as a precaution.

At the reception of the veterinarian, the receptionist takes his payment information, indicates the amounts for the consultation and hospitalization, he accepts but notes that the professional fees of the veterinarian of the Parrot are higher than those of the specialists who treated his wife's cancer.

"Let me see the patient, please," she tells him with a twenty-something smile, which surely forty years ago would have seemed challenging to him.

He uncovers the parrot and the receptionist with the same smile, unperturbed, opens the office door for him.

The vet with an even more challenging eighteen-year-old smile, still checking the computer, and without getting up from her chair, asks the parrot:

--How is it going parrot? Rrrua.

The mute parrot, with its entire body already transparent, did not answer him.

"I think I've arrived late, It’s is totally discolored," he tells her.

--Yes, it's already crystal clear – the veterinarian tells him – these cases must be treated quickly, at the first symptom of blurring. We have a support service for the bereaved, which makes it much easier to overcome the trauma due to the departure of our pets towards better worlds. If you want, I'll fill out the form at once and give it priority so that they attend to you today. The service is not included in the cost of the consultation.

I don't think I'll need it.

--We have funeral services for almost all religions and sects, but in cases of total swooning they can be avoided.

--I think the same.

--Only for legal reasons, we must notify a relative of yours, the departure to other dimensions of our pets can become a very strong emotional burden for a single mourner, you know, government paperwork.

"Yes" he said and gave her a made-up number and name for her eldest daughter, while he checked his account balances on his phone.

--Are you sure you don’t want the mourner’s relief services?

--Yes, thank you very much, I don't think it's justified to waste more time.

--Yes, you know that we are at your command.

--Bye.

The receptionist charged him and he paid.

Outside on the street he felt an insatiable thirst for the strongest alcohol but he knew how to contain himself. Surrounded by people in a hurry, he was in no rush to return to his apartment to follow his routine now without the parrot. So he decided to eat an ice cream and walk for a while.

He was sitting on a park bench eating an expensive ice cream when a group of boys approached him.

--Did your bird die? asked one, and they all laughed.

He didn't feel like talking, so he didn't answer.

He saw in these boys' eyes a stronger need for money than he would ever have for alcohol and that the money was needed to buy something much more addictive and mind-numbing than alcohol, and he felt sorry for them.

He needed to hear a speech from the parrot, and he thought it would have been fun to take him for a walk in the park, or take him to the beach, but with the discipline he had acquired at many farewells to loved ones, he decided not to let himself think about what could have been .

The boys talked and talked, seemed to be threatening him, and he began to see them blurry.

-- I'll give you the cage, guys – he told them.

It seems that this infuriated them more, so they surrounded him and one threatened him with a knife and asked for his wallet.

He took out almost all the cash he was carrying and threw it in his face and began to hit him with the cage while calling for help.

The boys collected the money and ran away.

Promising himself a bottle of the strongest vodka if he made it to his house without getting into any more trouble, he dumped the cage and walked.

Once in the apartment, he ordered three bottles of the cheapest from the supermarket and when they were delivered, he turned off the phone and opened the main switch of the apartment, turning off all his electrical appliances, sat in the dark on a chair on the balcony to watch the sunset while dranking long gulps directly from the bottle's mouth, he noticed that the city was blurring, and can't avoid to cry for the parrot.

Li Tao Po

VABM 7/Jan/2023

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This text will belong to the book “The War Of Bots” that will be availabe next april and continues the saga of:

The War of Humans

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