Pickles The Parrot

Clemens On The Twain

My name is Georgi (Clemens) Abbott and I am the author of 4 humorous books (paper and ebook) about my parrot - Pickles The Parrot, Pickles The Parrot Returns, Pickles The Parrot Speaks and Fifty Shades of African Grey. This is where I will blog about anything that comes to mind. It may be about Pickles but it might be about our yard and pond, the environment, wild birds, our small town, nature, fictional stories - who knows? I don't profess to have inherited my great, great, great uncle's writing talent but I certainly inherited the call. The uncle I'm speaking of is Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) - I was born a Clemens.

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Summer, Finally

Summers are short enough as it is, in this high altitude town we live in, but the long awaited summer has finally arrived this first week of August.  The vegetable gardens are far behind, and we may not get a harvest before the frost come at night.  But in the meantime, the trout are healthy (they love the cooler weather and water) and the pond is looking beautiful in it’s summer foliage.

The view can be seen from our diningroom but mostly we sit outside watching the fish jump and play and rise for flies while dozens of varieties of birds drink and bathe in the waterfall.

Heaven.

Posted 662 weeks ago

Clemens On The Twain

My name is Georgi (Clemens) Abbott and I am the author of 4 humorous books (paper and ebook) about my parrot - Pickles The Parrot, Pickles The Parrot Returns, Pickles The Parrot Speaks and Fifty Shades of African Grey. This is where I will blog about anything that comes to mind. It may be about Pickles but it might be about our yard and pond, the environment, wild birds, our small town, nature, fictional stories - who knows? I don't profess to have inherited my great, great, great uncle's writing talent but I certainly inherited the call. The uncle I'm speaking of is Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) - I was born a Clemens.

I Ain’t Got No Class

 

My husband, Neil, served two terms on our Town Council.  He was good at it, very knowledgeable and well liked.  Unfortunately, he had an opinionated, loud-mouthed wife who never seemed to know when to keep her mouth shut.

A month after being elected for the first time, all of Council and all of the Public Works Department, and all their wives were invited for a nice Christmas dinner at a local hotel.  Dinner included a comedian act in the bar afterwards.  It was a fairly large room of long rectangular shape.  The comedian was situated on a stage at one end and one entire wall consisted of windows with the exit door right in front of the stage.

Neil and I had had a few drinks so when we were saddled with a very UNfunny comedian who didn’t even have the decency to take a break, and droned on for an excruciating one hour and 45 minutes, our eyes were rolling back in our heads and we were suffering buzz kill.  I’d had enough and suggested to Neil that we leave.  Neil agreed but was concerned that we had a long walk of shame through the long bar and had to exit immediately in front of the comedian.  He felt this was rude.  I agreed, but the comedian was starting to sober us up so we decided to risk it.

We grabbed our coats, weaved through all the tables, got to the front and just as we thought we were safe and reaching for the door handle, the comedian boomed through the microphone “WHERE YA GOIN’?!” then jumped off the stage, ran over to me, grabbed my coat off my arm, held it up in a gallant display of chivalry and asked, “Don’t you think I’m funny???”  This was the first laugh he’d received all night but somehow, I felt the laugh was on me.

As I reached my arms into my sleeves I was facing the crowd as I answered, “Sorry.  You’re funny, but I’m hornier”.  As I stared into a room full of drop-jawed, wide-eyed faces, I caught the Mayor’s eye and prayed to God that I hadn’t just said that out loud.  I saw Neil’s short political career flash before my eyes and I started to blame him for dressing me up and taking me out when all of a sudden, the entire place exploded in laughter, applause and cheering.  Get out on a high note, I thought – then I grabbed Neil’s arm and dragged him in one quick flourish out the door.

Once out the door I realized, with horror, that we still had to walk the sidewalk, the length of the windows, still a spectacle.  The comedian, too thick to understand that he was really the butt of the joke, decided to prolong the laughter by running along side the window, banging the glass and yelling, “Where ya going?  Come back!” as the crowd roared and I just walked gracefully onward, blessing them with the Queen’s wave and a big smile.

Well, I managed to get myself out of that one – good thing they had all been drinking – and I was the talk of the town for weeks.  People approached me on the street asking, “Did you really SAY that?” while I answered, “Yes” with a grin.  It didn’t feel right, being proud to admit something like that but who was I to argue with comedy.

Neil and I laughed about it for many years, still do, and it didn’t affect his popularity (what does that say about our town?) so my big mouth never harmed anything … this time.

Posted 662 weeks ago

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