Birds and Words

By Bill Walton

The stories in Birds and Words all center around different birds, complete with a photo of the subject. Most stories are fiction although I admit the Thanksgiving Rooster is close to the truth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329041066

Bill Walton

Bill Walton (1952–2024) was NCAA player of the year at UCLA from 1972 to 1974, when UCLA set an NCAA record eighty-eight consecutive-game winning streak. A former NBA Champion and MVP, he was inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame and selected as one of the NBA’s Fifty Greatest Players ever. He also had a successful award-winning broadcasting career with ABC, ESPN, NBC, MSNBC, CBS, Turner, and Fox, among others.

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Birds and Words

Birds and Words

Copyright 2015 by

W W Walton

277 Hearst Street

North Bay, Ontario

P1B 8Z2

Canada

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Photographs and stories

ISBN 978-1-329-04106-6

Bird 1

parrot2.JPG

Parroting

The parrot was talking. Look at all the colours. See the flashing lights, the rain, the sunshine, the clouds, the leaves blowing, the apples on the ground, the bananas in the pine tree, the cat, that alligator, watch out for that car coming down the road, there goes a paper airplane, hear the bells, church bells, see the crows all the crows, the clothes blowing in the wind, the flashing light, the cows mooing, the snowflakes falling, the tornado coming, the green traffic light, the dog barking, the strobe light on off on off, the wine bottle dripping, the dancing girls, the cymbals crashing, the man in the white coat. The colourful parrot stopped, looked at me, and skated around the table. It was wearing roller skates. Then he began again: Look at all the colours. See the flashing lights, the rain, the sunshine, the clouds, the leaves blowing . . . the man in the white coat.

I tried to open my eyes but they felt as if they were glued shut. I tried to open my mouth, to say something, but my tongue felt as though it were wearing a heavy parka. I could not move my tongue. My mouth tasted of sardines, turnip, mustard, kippers, sweet peas, old coffee, white chocolate, peppermint, bile, and SAE #30 motor oil. My ears were ringing, not tinnitus, but sleigh bells, bass guitars, police sirens, gunshots, wailing babies and popcorn popping. And a parrot squawking about see the colours. See the man in white coat.

I felt a zillion spiders crawling up my leg and tried to scream for help. For a can of Raid. Mosquitoes were biting my back - a million pin pricks of pain, of malaria, of yellow fever, of black leg, of West Nile. Bloodsuckers were on my arms, worse than Bogie on the African Queen. The parrot was saying something. Help, it said, help. I felt the tears rolling down my face.

The tear water was rising, rising quickly, now up to my waist, now my chest, now my throat, my mouth, my nose, my eyes . . . I was dead, suffocated, lungs full of water. I felt as if I was on a water slide, spinning, slipping down, faster and faster. Then blackness. Silence.

The parrot was talking. Jon, can you hear me? Jon, wake up. Why I said. My mouth would not open, my tongue frozen, cemented to my palate. I tried to move my hands, my feet. They would not move. I tried to open my eyes. A huge parrot, red, blue, yellow - feathers of every colour - was standing there. Jon, can you see me? Of course I could see it but what was a parrot doing - talking to me. I know parrots can talk when they want a cracker, but this one knew more words. Jon, can you hear me? See me?

Polly, I said.

Oh good, you are back.

Back?

Yes, we thought we had lost you there for a while.

Lost? Why did the parrot think I was lost? I was there with him in the jungle. I saw the flashing lights, the rain, the sunshine, the clouds, the leaves blowing, the apples on the ground, the bananas in the pine tree, the cat, that alligator, the car coming down the road, a paper airplane, heard the bells, church bells, saw the crows all the crows, the clothes blowing in the wind, the cows mooing, the snowflakes falling, the tornado coming, the green traffic light, the dog barking, the strobe light on off on off, the wine bottle dripping, the dancing girls, the cymbals crashing, the man in the white coat. The parrot was losing its colour, turning white. It was a man in a white coat.

Where am I ? I asked.

St Mary’s Hospital the parrot said. The man said.

What happened?

You will have to tell us. It appears that you had an overdose.

Overdose? All I had was two beers. And a scotch chaser and . . . and . . . and then a parrot on roller skates came along . . .

You did not take any drugs the man asked.

No I never take drugs.

Did somebody put something in your drink? Did you leave your drink unattended?

It was difficult to remember, as if my mind could not grasp what I wanted to remember, as if it knew, that it had something stored somewhere but had forgotten where it put it. Something had happened last night at the bar. The two women. Might have been twins or sisters. I bought them drinks. Seemed nice. Had to pee. Two beers do that.

I closed my eyes, trying to think, to remember. Maybe the parrot could remember. I tried to visualize the parrot - the parrot on his roller skates. Some of the colours returned, some of the sounds. I was floating, not on the water but on a cloud of feathers.

The parrot said, he’s gone again, but I think the danger is past. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on him. Better keep him in restraints, just in case . . .beep, kaleidoscope, beep, windmills, beep, rainbows, beep, parrots, beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

I have had hangovers the morning after but this was a doozey. Not only would the  room not stop spinning around, but the incessant beeping was hammering at my ears. I tried to focus my eyes on something to stop the spinning before I threw up. It was not working. The white coat came into the room. Jon, are you awake.

Yes, I mumbled. Please turn off that noise.

He disconnected the wires and turned a switch on the monitor. Beautiful silence. The coat was loosening the restraints on my ankles and wrists. How are you feeling, he asked.

Hung over. Sick, tired. Where am I?

St Mary’s. The psychiatric ward - it seemed to best place to put you when you arrived by ambulance last night. Do you remember any of that?

I tried to think, to remember. No, the last thing I remember was having a drink at Casey’s bar. Then a parrot on roller skates. And now you.

He glanced around to see if we were alone. You don’t remember painting your penis like a candy cane or a barber’s pole?

What was he talking about? I pulled the covers back and took a quick peek. Holy shit! I said.

I guess the answer is no, the coat said. Just as I expected, somebody slipped you a date-rape drug.

Was I raped?

Well you don’t seem to have any obvious damages - other than the paint job. I’m guessing it was a body paint and it should wash off with a soap solution. So, you can’t remember anything after meeting the ladies at the bar?

No. My mind seems to be blank - wiped clean.

Well that is the normal reaction after a date rape drug episode. The police were here last night but you were still out of it. They took some photos for evidence but the officer said she would check on you this morning.

She?

Yes, but don’t worry - she was very professional about the whole thing, including taking the flash photos of your penis.

I did remember some flashing lights as well as the parrot. Uh, Doc - did I have an, you know, an erection when they took the pictures?

A real flagpole.

Aw shit I said to myself. Doc, can I wash up now? And maybe have a black coffee.

Certainly, Jon. Let’s see if you can walk to the washroom.

I was okay on my feet and went into the shower. The soap removed the paint with a little scrubbing and Dicky seemed none the worse for wear. A nurse’s aide brought me a coffee and a pastry, saying I could leave as soon as the doctor finished signing my release papers. An attractive woman came into the room and flashed a brass badge at me saying she was the investigating officer. She asked after my health and then satisfied that I was compos mentis, asked if I remembered anything from last night.

Only a parrot on roller skates, I said.

Were you drinking with one woman?

No, there two of them. I think they looked like twins or sisters.

Did you get their names?

No, I don’t remember.

You don’t know where they took you?

Nothing. I don’t even know how I got to the hospital.

A patrol car found you down by Riverside - passed out on the sidewalk. They called an ambulance when they realized you appeared to be an overdose case.

I guess that explains the flashing lights, the sirens and noise.

Nothing else?

Just the parrot.

I wonder, the cop said. I wonder if they had a parrot in their house - where they took you . . .  Bye the way, did you think to