'Raaah! Raaah! Cumulus clouds on the coast! Raaah! "Repeated the bird, as if he was afraid that Antony had misheard him the first time. The parrot could only fit in his cage if he constantly kept his head down. His claustrophobic gloom seeping from his wet, misty eyes.
Antony was so startled that he bumped into the hall closet across the parrot. He heard something fall, and with pain in his heart saw that it was his favorite model airplane, which for years had stood proudly on the closet but now lay on the ground in dozens of pieces. He cussed at himself and then considered his impeccable lack of good options. He trotted back to the bedroom, opened the door and peeked inside. He was relieved Rosie was still asleep. Briefly Antony even considered to just leave his intention for what it was, but his stomach would never forgive him. He closed the door and thought.
He switched off the hallway light. He crept down the hallway as quietly as possible. It was dark and he did not see a thing, nor foot, nor any body part whatsoever, but managed to feel his way toward the back door. Step by noiseless step, not daring to breathe, he moved around through the corridor until he heard something what appeared to be a shaking wing to his right. He thought he saw two glassy beads in the darkness trying to find something to scream at. Antony silently paused for a few seconds until he had the courage to take the next step. It remained silent. Relieved he breathed out and continued on his way, by placing his full weight and bare foot on a piece of broken model airplane.
"AAFUUUUC!" He was halfway through the roar before he could cover his mouth with his hand.
'Raaah! Thunderstorms in Copenhagen! Raaah! "Replied the bird, short but sharp and loud.
Antony stood as if frozen in the corridor again, fearing that this time his wife would have been woken up by the horrible screams, or perhaps the parrot. He desperately looked to the other side of the corridor. There was nothing to see, until suddenly the hall light went on. His wife stood in the opening of the bedroom door. The layer of tomato soup could not hide the irritation in her face.
"What are you doing?" She asked, dazed by sleep, but disappointed as ever.
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