I haven’t always led the privileged life I do today. Not that I haven’t always deserved it – but realistically, I lost my youthful naiveté when my first servant decided to name me Elvis. Young people just think they discovered ‘sexting’ (or is it sexing?). At any rate, after the results of DNA tests, my gender was reassigned and I was given my true name, Roxanne. I was hatched, and weaned from hand-feeding in South Florida – Native Floridian, and proud to be so. (Just don't call me Cracker -- than name has been assigned by me for my 'Too brother. See other posts for details.)
While with my first servant, I began my colorful and ever-expanding vocabulary, and the use thereof. When she was no longer able to provide the care I demand, my new servants came along – gullible and inexperienced – just the way I like them.
A small truck was enlisted to transport my cage and play tree. I allowed myself the safety of a small carrier with peep holes, ensconced in the front seat of a Firebird. I thought, now we’re talking. Little did I know that thought was prophetic .
My driver/servant seemed unable to contain herself. “Oh, Roxanne, I am so happy to have you...we are going to have so much fun and I have new toys waiting for you and I found some parrot training videos we can watch together and you can learn tricks and….
Oh - my - God. Would this servant never stop talking? When at last she took a breath, I gave my unvarnished opinion of her entire discourse with my favorite word at the time…
What----EV--ER!!!
That shut her up.
And I am proud to say I have astonished her on a daily basis ever sense.
Admittedly, with some servants, that is not as amazing as it sounds.
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