Parrot From Hell: My Buddy's Revenge
My wife, Anne Brighton, gives me a gray parrot.
Every single day, it looks me in the eye and screeches, "Go to hell!"
I send it to a parrot rehabilitation center, where they place it in a mirrored cage and play "I'm a good bird" on loop, three thousand times a day.
Here's the thing—I've been reborn.
In my past life, that parrot came into our home knowing only two phrases—"So ugly" and "Go to hell".
At first, I believed it was merely mimicking what it had heard.
But then my body began to fail. Sleep was the first to go. Every night, the same nightmare returned, and the same voice echoed through it, repeating those words over and over.
"Go to hell."
My appetite disappeared, and I wasted away until I was nothing but bones. In the end, my organs gave out.
I didn't find out the truth until I was dying.
The parrot I thought it was wasn't one at all.
It was Ian Sawyer—my best friend, who had been dead for years, trapped inside that bird the whole time.