“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“See, bird, every GPS has an unbuilt signal that can recognise, chase and retrieve a rogue rebel.”

“I knew there’d be a disclaimer.”

“Not a disclaimer, an agreement to see things through as best intended for you: a new home, a safe home, an organised home.  No need to think for yourself.  There won’t be a brain cell spilled or lost.  Your focus and drive to the committed task will improve without you even realising it.”

“This is about rum, is it not?”

“In theory.”

“But, what I saw—“

“—a mere suggestion using remote viewing. The River exists, but not where your ‘under the hat’ moment pointed at.”

“I’m a free bird, you can’t—”

“—First, let’s talk about your most precious legacy: your genes.”

“Legacy?  What legacy?  I’m mere potential hero in the making.  My beak, my tongue and grey matter may be large but my paws remain small and my wings in a mere state of revival mode, I am a gentlemanly parrot.”

“Modest indeed, bird, but you see, this is about your feathery make-up.”

“Gorgeous aren’t they?” Labaguette affirms, smoothing any feather within reach with ever growing pride.

“Not bad, not bad.  Err—”

“—I repeat: rendered useless.”

“Genetic material with great potential.  Mingle feather and flight genes into a Policeman’s shoulders and the Policeman will grow wings.  I’ll make you commander in chief, CEO, circuit clerk or principal parrot.”

“My feathers?”

“They match.”

“Not fluorescent they’re not.”

“Colourful is all that is needed.”

“I thought I was going to fly again.”

“Oh but you are.  Flying policemen and you in charge of them is the reward.”

To be continued…


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