The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
October 26, 2004

Feathers

The bird has become a handful. The ownies are in Spanish, not that pets should have instructions, but this one does. In the process of cleaning the cage, I got caught up in a great banana smoothie and took a quick nap to even things out. I awoke to a ringing phone, but never picked it up. There was a mess of feathers in the hallway and a rumpus of some kind in the gray room. It was fitting that my agent was leaving a message on the machine in there, because I got to Tito in time to prevent him from hitting the sliding glass doors again. He had had the run of the place for a spell and the floor was a like a fresh Jackson Pollock canvas. The lesson here has nothing to do with the bird. That ringer was on high and I've always had a house policy of "no higher than low." Maybe that should be relaxed.