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Jeanette was proud of Simon. It was her time to preen, these visits to the vet. "They're actually very affectionate," she remarked, pawing at the blue parrot's head. “How old is he,” someone asked. “Thirty-two.” Really? / They live that long? / Did you know…? / I didn’t know… Jeanette beamed in the bird’s reflected glory, letting out a small dribble of urine in her excitement. When she takes her glasses off, Simon reasoned, grinding his dull black beak. Then’s the time. His talons gripped eight singularities into Jeanette’s sagging forearm. He squawked and shat a runny yellow stream onto her pants. “Simon always gets nervous around other animals,” she explained. "You want to make a good impression, don't you baby?" I will eat your eye, the malevolent dinosaur thought, his own angry white irises inflamed now. I will pluck and eat your fucking eye.