Tag Archives: parrot

My Parrot is a Horndog

This is George. One day I will tell the story of why I have George (Shawna this means I’m going to be shaking my fist at you) but not today. Today I must discuss his Horndogeddness. No. That’s not a word. I don’t care. There is no other label for this. And I have yet to find a support group or intervention team for him, but he clearly needs it.

George is in his teen years. If you don’t believe that teens are horny and can think of nothing else, then I dare you to spend a day with my parrot. He humps everything. Did I know parrots hump stuff? No. I did not. This came as a complete shock to me. A grotesque, giggle inducing shock.

Here’s what happens: George hears a sound he likes, or maybe he sees something which excites him, or maybe the wind from the ceiling fan blows the right way. He really doesn’t need an excuse or much to set him off. Heck, just waking up in the morning can start him. So something or other makes George “pop his leg.” This is a funny little hop he does. Maybe it moves his junk around and gives him a special feeling. I don’t know. Luckily his junk is under feathers so at least I don’t have to see his little birdy erection. He then starts his mating song. Believe it or not this sounds EXACTLY like porn music. I keep expecting a buff pizza delivery guy with a bushy mustache to show up at my door. But no. We are not actually in a porn. It’s just my parrot.

During the mating song, George um…positions himself just so. And by positions himself I mean he gets ready to hump his calcium stick. That poor calcium stick. It sees a lot of action. After he’s positioned in his favorite way, the motion ┬ábegins. George’s anatomy might be small, but there’s a lot of motion to his ocean. He’s got it going on. And then comes the special moment. And I’m not kidding here. If a parrot’s eyes could roll up, George would be able to see everyone behind him. There is no singing during the special moment, only furious humping and sometimes the full expansion of his wings.

After he’s done, do you know what he does? He acts like nothing happened at all. Does he smoke a cigarette? No. Does he look around with shame on his face that he just did something very private in a very public place? No. He doesn’t even thank his calcium stick or at least promise to call it tomorrow. He’s an inconsiderate, horny little lout.

I must have the happiest bird in town.

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