My black moor was named Bart. But I did have a red headed Mitred Conure named popeye. He loved me but he would bite the kids, so I returned him to the pet store. In an unrelated story, once when I was 5 years old I was sitting on the toilet pooping when I heard an ambulance speed past our house with it's sirens blaring. At 5 an ambulance speeding by with it sirens going is pretty damned big deal. I finished pooping and wiped my ass and pulled my pants up as fast as I could. I ran outside to try to catch a glimpse of it but I was too late. A couple of my friends were outside talking excitedly about it. I felt awful, here we had this major serious event, at least it was to a 5 year old boy, and where was I? Pooping, sitting on the toilet with a turd hanging out of my ass. My friends asked where I was, did I hear it? I acted like I didn't care so much. I wasn't about to tell them where I was and why I missed it. I felt bad about the whole thing for a long time.
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