Bird Brained by Jessica Speart

pig sty, covered with more dirt than clothes. I guessed them to be around seven and eight from their size. There was little doubt that the two belonged to Willy: Each sported a cougar’s tooth dangling from an ear, and had a Super Soaker water gun clutched in his hands. The boys eyeballed me nearly as closely as the gang back at Porky’s, sizing me up for a wet T-shirt showdown. I convinced them otherwise with my own warning growl, backed up by two Hershey bars as a last-ditch bribe. The kids ripped the chocolate from my hands in record time.
    I moved toward the door to find that the dog had also changed its mind. The critter was latched onto me, its paws wrapped around my leg. I dug through my purse in a desperate effort to find something to give him and found a health bran muffin that Sophie had foisted on me a few days ago. I offered it to the mutt and gave a loud knock on the door, hoping it would open before the muffin was devoured. My prayers were answered as Bambi appeared.
    Ever the modern-day mom, Bambi’s version of a housedress consisted of a red bustier and a black plastic miniskirt, dark blue eyeliner and white lipstick, giving her just the right touch of heroin chic. Her short platinum tresses had been carefully gelled into a helmet of spikes. Except for being barefoot, she could have been headed straight for a guest appearance on
Jerry Springer
.
    “Get outta here, you mangy mutt!” she screamed at the dog.
    The critter fell to the ground and onto its back in a show of subservience, as Bambi quickly pulled me inside.
    “God, I hate that thing.” She gave the door a swift kick as the dog clawed at the other side, attempting to break in. “It’s always trying to hump my leg, ya know? You oughta see him when I’m nude. I mean, that dog stares at me like he’s gonna rape me or something.” She gave a little shiver that ended in a shimmy, a habit from having been a dancer in a topless joint a few years ago.
    “I used to have a life, ya know what I mean?” Bambi had once confided. “I gave up my career to have Willy’s two kids. Now what am I supposed to do with these?” she’d asked, holding up a pair of 38 Ds. “You know what kinda damage breast feeding does to them? You bet your sweet ass that snake owes me alimony.”
    The raucous screech of a parrot filled the air, informing me that something new had been added to Bambi’s menagerie.
    “When did you get a bird, Bambi?” I asked. There was no way the woman would ever have paid a red cent for any kind of pet.
    “That’s another thing Willy unloaded on me,” she snorted. Bambi pointed in to the kitchen with midnight-blue nails that had been manicured into sharply honed rapiers.
    A parrot paced methodically back and forth on the perch in its cage. The bird was predominantly green, with rose-red feathers covering its cheeks and throat. I heard a sharp intake of breath and realized it was my own. Sitting in Bambi’s kitchen was a highly prized Cuban Amazon.
    “Willy tried to convince me this thing is worth a coupla months’ alimony. Can you believe it?” She shook her head in disgust as she pulled two mugs out of a dented metal cabinet, and filled them from a coffeemaker that looked as if its contents had been sitting around for days. I found a spot on the rim of my cup that wasn’t yet chipped and took a sip, the cold, bitter brew launching my body into its own caffeinated shimmy. I walked over to the cage and gazed at the Amazon, which instantly screeched and lurched threateningly toward me. What do you know? It was a mini-Willy with wings.
    “Oh, yeah. Don’t stick a finger or anything in there,” Bambi warned as she flipped the parrot the bird.
    “I guess it’s not too social,” I said, wondering where Willy had gotten an Amazon from.
    “Social? That’s a good one. The damn thing’s demented!” Bambi stuck a finger in her mouth, sucked on it, and then held it out in front of me. A red scar was deeply etched into the flesh.