Unfiltered Story #301063

In my senior year of high school, I was in a pirate-themed play. My costume included a fake parrot that the school costume department had bought specifically for that production. I absolutely loved the parrot and named it Bartholomew. A few months after the play finished, the costume department told me that I could take Bartholomew home if I wanted, since he was getting a little beat up in the costume room and wasn’t holding up as well as expected.

My mother absolutely LOATHED this parrot. She said it was creepy with its beady little eyes and looked like it wanted to kill her in her sleep. This did nothing to curb my love for this red hunk of styrofoam and fake feathers. He was given a perch atop my bookshelf, my mother avoided looking up whenever she had to come into my room, and that was that.

Several months later, I’m beginning to plan my move to college. Just for kicks, I bring up Bartholomew.

Mom: “Over the next two months, you should probably think about what you want to take to college, what you want to leave here, and what you’ll leave until it comes up.”

Me: “Should I take Bartholomew?”

Mom: “No. Bartholomew stays here, so I can burn him.”

Me: “No! I’ll have to bring him with me or you’ll kill him!”

Mom: “Don’t bring Bartholomew to college. Don’t be that kid.”

Me: “But if someone asks, I can tell them about all the wonderful memories I have with him!”

Dad: “Nobody wants to hear those stories, sweetie.”

I’m debating getting Bartholomew a decorative cage. If he can’t come with me, I’ll ask my younger brother to take care of him.