“Really, y’all,” Sandi said. “He’s not an it. He’s a he. I’m not sure he’ll appreciate being called an it. He might be sensitive about it.”
“Did you say it... er, he appreciates things?” Edwina asked.
“He’s sensitive?” Debbie Sue followed up.
Sandi gushed like a proud mother. “Oh, yes. Sometimes I honestly believe he has feelings, as well as cognitive abilities.”
“What does that mean?” Edwina asked.
“She just told you, Ed,” Debbie Sue said. “It means he might feel human things. He understands human things.”
“I truly believe he does,” Sandi said. “A couple of months ago, the last time we had rain, I had him tethered outside to get some fresh air. I got tied up on the phone in the kitchen and when the rain started, I heard this voice from outside. ‘Help. I’m getting wet. Help. Help.’”
“No shit?” Debbie Sue said, staring at Jake round-eyed. “And it was Jake talking?”
“That’s some scary crap,” Edwina added. “I mean, birds live outside. A little rain shouldn’t bother him.”
Jake piped up. “Aawrrk. Don’t let me get wet.”
Sandi had to laugh. “Jake, you are so funny.”
She turned her attention back to her aunt and Debbie Sue. “I catch myself having conversations with him all the time. Just to give you a boring factoid, people who research these birds believe that the African Greys can learn up to a thousand words. And Jake does have quite a vocabulary. Of course, some of it isn’t suitable for mixed company. I’ve been trying to teach him more appropriate words, but it’s been challenging, given his history.”
“What’s his history?” Debbie Sue asked.
Sandi gently passed her finger over Jake’s feathered gray head. “Poor sweet baby. He lived in a biker sports bar in Odessa until he was rescued by the SPCA and taken to We Love Animals. Everyone was amazed he survived in that environment. His owner let the customers buy him beer and pizza. On top of that, my friend at WLA told me the poor thing witnessed a murder. Apparently, that bar was a wild place.”
“A real murder?” Debbie Sue said.
“Can you believe it? The cops actually questioned him and Jake told them all about it, even who did it. But the judge wouldn’t let him testify in court. He ruled that testimony from a parrot wasn’t credible.”
“Wow,” Debbie Sue said. “Why would he think that? I’d believe a parrot if he was an eyewitness and told me something.”
“Well, yeah. Me, too.” Edwina added. “I mean, this is a beauty shop. I’d come as close to believing a parrot as I would some of the human shit that gets shoveled in here every day.”
“Shoveled shit. Shoveled shit,” Jake squawked.
“Oh, my Lord, Aunt Ed. You just taught him some more dirty words. He seems to learn the bad words fast.”
“If he lived in a bar, I’ll bet he learned some great pick-up lines,” Debbie Sue said, giggling.
“Uh-huh.” Sandi turned to the parrot. “Jake, say something nice to the nice lady.” She emphasized the word “nice,” hoping he remembered her admonishment back in the car.
Jake whistled what sounded like a wolf whistle and cocked his head. “Hey, babe. Nice tits. Let’s blow this joint.”
Sandi's hand shot out to cover Jake's beak. “Oh, Debbie Sue, I am so sorry. I just never know what he’s going to say. Tits is one of the bad words I told him not to use.”
But evidently Jake hadn't offended Debbie Sue. She clasped her hands under her chin. “Oh, I love him. I wish you weren’t taking him, Ed. I think I might have to.”
“Fourth and ten, fourth and ten. Bring in the kicker,” Jake chanted.
“Oh, my God,” Aunt Ed said. “Those are football words. You say he lived in a sports bar?”
“Who’s your favorite team, Jake?” Sandi asked him. “Who do you root for?”
“Go, Cowboys. Go, Rangers.”
Jake was putting on a show. Sandi’s chest filled with pride. She and Debbie Sue laughed together, but Aunt Ed hung back.
“Ed, what’s the matter with you?” Debbie Sue asked. “You haven’t said anything to him. This is such a good idea for Vic. He’ll love him. Ed, come say something to him. Ask him something.”
Edwina stayed across the room, watching closely, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Is that all he says? Stuff about sports? Vic isn’t much of a sports guy. He watches the military channel.”
As if he were auditioning, Jake squawked, “Mr. GQ Cowboy. What an asshole. What an asshole.”
Debbie Sue straightened, a bemused expression on her face. “What does that mean?”
One thing that Sandi had learned about African Greys was that they were unique mimics and Jake had proved it. Sandi had feared he might repeat the words he heard her say out on the highway. Warmth flashed in her cheeks. “It was just someone we met on the road.”
Edwina came forward. “Oh, really, niece-of-mine. So who’s the GQ Cowboy? Anyone we know or better yet, anyone you know?”
Sandi told the story of the trip down from Midland and the encounter with the cow and calf standing in the middle of the highway. With her Aunt Edwina well known for her meddling and matchmaking, she left out the fact that she had seen GQ Cowboy before and he had left her weak-kneed. And that she even knew his name.
“He put a rope around her neck and led her away, end of story,” she said in conclusion. “Not much to tell.”
“I know that sharp curve,” Debbie Sue said. “That fence runs along the Carruthers ranch. Must have been one of Harley’s cows.”
Edwina brightened. “Must’ve been one of Harley’s ranch hands. It was him, Debbie Sue. I’ll bet it was him.”
“Who?” Sandi asked, looking from Debbie Sue to Edwina. “Who do you think it was?”
“We don’t know.” Edwina winked. “But we’re working on finding out. Hey, speaking of men, how’s your boyfriend doing these days? I read in the paper that he’s defending the bad guy that
