PARROT VS. COOKIE

The tiny parrot looked at me. Had it winked? What the fuck? I raised my cookie to my mouth, the whole time thinking I was looking directly at the parrot, but definitely not looking at the cookie. It was chocolate chip. I knew this because I bought the cookies at a local grocery store with a coupon for 25¢ off, and all the other cookies I’d eaten from the package had been chocolate chip. Yes, it was indeed a chocolate chip cookie. This much was certain.
When the cookie was to my mouth, I bit down, the whole time thinking I was looking at the tiny, colorful, winking parrot. But when my bottom and top teeth connected, there was nothing between them!
I blinked and looked at my hand. It was empty, save for a few random crumbs and a smudge of slightly melted, delicious, brown chocolate chip on my thumb. What the shit? Had I eaten it already? There was no delectable chocolate chip cookie taste in my mouth, so I couldn’t have.
It was then that I looked at the parrot I thought I’d been looking at the whole time before the cookie incident. There it was. Green and red. Eating my chocolate chip cookie. How the hell? Do parrots move that fast? Had I blanked out? What time was it? Had the tricky bird hypnotized me?
The parrot finished the cookie and winked again. I rubbed my now dry, burning eyes. When I opened them, all traces of the dastardly parrot were gone, save for a few cookie crumbs and a bright green feather.
I picked up the feather, and examined it briefly. Just a boring, old feather. My attention went to my remaining chocolate chip cookies beside me.
But they were all gone. The package empty.
Motherfucker. I called the cops, but it was out of their jurisdiction. I called animal control, but they insisted that there were no wild parrots in Wisconsin, especially in the winter.
Looks like it got away with stealing my chocolate chip cookies.
Sometimes, on nights I manage to fall asleep, the winking parrot talks to me. In a squawk, he says, \"The cookies were delicious.\"
\"I know, dickhead,\" I hear myself reply bitterly. \"That’s why I bought them. For myself.\"
The parrot shows no remorse. \"You don\'t need \'em anyway-- SQUAWK!-- tubby.\"
I look down at myself in the dream. I’m butt-ass naked. Flabby and soft. Yeah, the parrot might’ve had a point. But that still didn’t justify chocolate chip cookie theft. When I look up, the parrot is gone.
Then I wake in a cold sweat; my sheets and bedspread in shambles. I don’t know what it all means. And most of me doesn’t care.
I just want a chocolate chip cookie.