I was walking along the street at around

I was walking along the street at around 10pm as I was returning home from my badminton class. Suddenly a van came towards me and some guys came out and hit me with a metal rod,

's stray 3 wood shot which hooked when it should have sliced, or vice versa. I didn't recognize him in his death metal regalia as he charged at me swinging the club. "Rod Stewart!"

I said as he got another birdie. "Meet my cockateel", he said as the bird in the corner spoke English backwards. Backwards English sounded more like Gibberish than anything else.

"Oh, I've wanted to keep a cockatiel, but my flat doesn't allow pets. Well, I have had a cockatoo if you know what I mean." I tried to get the bird to whistle the Song of Healing

like we had practiced all morning. Instead the bird sang Frank Zappa's "Titties and Beer". The pastor looked at me like he was done with my shit. He walked away. I took the bird to

Norway for some reason that escapes me just now. I'm sure it was a hassle to get the proper documents for introducing an alien bird species. I don't recall if there was. It sang a

raunchy sea shanty before it flew into a wall, causing a fatal concussion. It wasn't may fault! So I took the parrot back to the pet store for a refund, but the stupid clerk

said I could practice taxidermy on the dead parrot and refused to refund my money. Pissed, I watched the clerk retreat to the back of the pet store. I opened all the pet cages and

released an army of fluffy minions into the store. The clerk came back, wearing a horrified expression. "What have you done?" they demanded. "Caused a cat-astrophe," I replied.