Roger Stark stretched luxuriously awake to the sound of howling wind and pounding rain against his bedroom window.  Let it rain; let it blow; Roger smiled to himself. He had no reason to leave the comfort of his abode. Today he planned on spending an entire quiet, stress-free day at home.

Roger rose from his bed and started his day with another long stretch, then strolled into the living room.  “Echo, lights on.” Soft, recessed lights lit up the room. He immediately walked up to a covered, centrally located cage and unveiled it.  “Good morning, Woody,” he greeted the talkative green parrot, his only house companion.

Aah!  Good morning, Woody!  The bird parroted back.  Twheat!

“How are you doing this morning?”

Aah!  Good morning, Woody.  Twheat! Woody repeated.

Roger inherited Woody three years ago from his mother.  She had adored the bird and Roger promised on her death bed he would take good care of Woody.  At first Roger thought owning the bird would be a nuisance, but he soon found out he liked having Woody around.  He could even admit he has grown quite attached to the parrot.

As CEO of his own company Roger was married to his work.  He was concerned over how little time he spent at home, but Woody actually gave him a connection with home, greeting him when he came in the door.  Most importantly, Woody gave him a connection to his mother.

Echo, lights on!  Woody chirped and then whistled.

ECHO:  LIGHTS ARE ON.

“Silly bird,” Roger laughed, moving toward the kitchen sink.  He wondered if Woody and Echo conversed during the day when he was gone.  “Echo, four cups water, please,” Roger requested placing a coffeepot under the faucet, inadvertently knocking the sink stopper in place.

Twheat, twheat, silly bird!  Woody whistled behind him. Echo.

The device’s blue and green ring lit up in alertness.  When nothing more was said, it went back to inactive.

Roger sat down to a breakfast of coffee, eggs and toast.  The rain continued to come down hard, but it looked like the wind had died down.  “What do you say, Woody, we spend the whole day together?”

Aah!  Good morning, Woody!

After breakfast, Roger inspected Woody’s cage.  “Do you need water?”

Echo, water! Woody chirped.

The kitchen faucet came on.

“You have plenty water, but it looks like you are low on food.  Let’s change the paper on the bottom of your cage.”

Good morning, Woody.  Aah, aah, the parrot chattered away, excited over all the attention.  Echo. Good morning, Woody.

ECHO:  GOOD MORNING, WOODY.

Roger burst out laughing.  “You do chatter with each other during the day!” When Roger stepped into the kitchen to dispose of the old cage liner and wash his hands, the water was just starting to overflow out of the stoppered sink.

“Echo, water off!” Roger called out.

The faucet shut off.  Tip-toeing across the spreading puddle, he reached into the sink and pulled the stopper causing more water to overflow.

“Bad, bird,” Roger admonished gently, throwing a couple of towels down on the floor to mop up the water.

“Bad, bird.”  He made a mental note to always check if the stopper was in the sink from now on.

Bad bird!  Woody parroted back.  Bad bird! Echo bad!

Roger smiled.  Did the bird actual understand that it was implicating the messaging device?  He didn’t think so. After mopping up the water, which fortunately hadn’t amounted to a river, Roger thought he would tease Woody over the incident.

Good morning, Woody.  Echo.

“Bad, bad, bird.  You know what I’m going to do to you, Woody?” Roger said sinking into his recliner and reaching for his lap top.  “I’m going to grab you by the neck, break off those pretty green wings, and then I’m going to axe off those scaly toes of yours.”

Of course he would never hurt Woody.  It didn’t matter what he said. It was all meaningless to the bird.

Good morning, Woody.  Aah, Echo.

“Yes, that’s what I’m going to do.  And after that, I’m going to boil you up, and eat you for supper,” Roger added before turning his attention to his laptop.

The rain slacked off.  Roger streamed a movie while Woody contentedly pecked at his seeds.

The peacefully quiet domestic scene did not last long.  Soon there were sirens blaring, shouting, even a helicopter on the scene.  “What the …?” Roger asked puzzled, getting up to investigate.

“Come out with your hands up,” an officer with a megaphone demanded.

Roger Stark decided to cooperate.  This had to be some mistake. He hadn’t committed any crime.  Cautiously he opened his front door and stepped out.

“Hands up above your head,” the officer shouted as several more officers closed in on him with guns cocked.  Roger complied; an officer grabbed his hands and handcuffed them behind his back.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Roger asked dumbfounded.

“Where’s the bird?” the first officer demanded.

“What?” Roger asked stunned.

Two officers rushed into the house.  Soon one reappeared. “The bird is still alive!”

“Did you threaten the life of an animal?”

“No!”

“It was all recorded.  Your bird will be confiscated and taken to a safer home.  We will be taking you in for questioning.”

“You can’t do this.  Woody is my property.  I haven’t done anything wrong!”

Two officers carried Woody out in his cage as Roger was being led away.

“Woody!” he called out to the bird.

Aah!  Good morning, Woody!  The parrot twittered back as the officers placed Woody in a van and closed the doors.  Slowly the van pulled away.

Roger Stark would never see Woody again.

Note:  No parrot was threatened or harmed in any way during the writing of this story.