Boobie and The Beast

This is a story about a bird and a breast. My bird, and my right breast, to be exact. There really isn't too much to tell, although I am certain that I will somehow be able to draw this story out much longer than the actual event that took place.

It had been a particularly rough week with Cleo. She, for reasons only known to her, had decided to turn completely demonic. She didn't seem to know what the heck she wanted. When she was in her cage she would scream to be out, when she was out she would make a mad dash back to the cage only to scream to be let out once again as soon as you closed it and left the room.  If you managed to extract her from the cage by using a hand towel (dubbed "the extraction rag by Charles"), and make it far enough away so she couldn't make her way back to the cage, you'd most likely be bitten only minute later.

I decided that since she was being such a holy terror I would try and snap her out of her funk by removing everything and anything from her cage that she would try and nest with and be possessive over. Her beloved cardboard box was removed and hidden in the closet, her tent suffered a similar fate, and all paper products from the bottom of the cage were confiscated.. I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty as she ran around the bottom of her cage looking for her belongings. My feelings of guilt didnt last for long however, because as I walked out of the room Cleo (with the small amount of Bird Brain she possesses) was already planning on how she could exact her revenge.

If you over look the fact that both Charles and I had been up since 4:30am, the next day started out much like any other. Convinced that there was no way we were going to fall back asleep, and that it was a waste of time just laying there, both of us got out of bed at 5:30am. I, in an attempt to be productive, started doing accounting homework at 6am (you can imagine how well that went) and continued working away until 8:30am or so.

Since I only had 30 minutes left before I was scheduled to work, and the accounting was going less than well, I decided that I would take a break and spend some quality time with Cleo.  Roughly 15 seconds after "extracting" Cleo from her cage, Charles received this email on his Blackberry..

I just took Cleo out to spend some time with her before work and when I bent over partially to get something she ran right down my shirt and into my bra and started to bite me. Then I tried to get her out and she latched onto my finger and wouldn't let go. She bit me really deep.  And now I am crying. And I hope if someone reads this email they laugh because of how pathetic it is. I know I would.

Some people dont believe what they are told, they only believe what they see...and so for those people (and for the rest of you who are curious about the havoc that a yellow beast wreak upon one's bosom) here is photographic proof to back up my tale of woe. 

Bite marks and bruising

Chunk missing from my middle finger

And for those of you that scoff at my war wounds, I DARE you, come, have a yellow bird run down your shirt and see how well you fare!

This post is dedicated to Leanne who knows that that wrath of a lovebird is no laughing matter...