Serenity Park

Does anything seem odd about naming a parrot sanctuary Serenity Park?  I took the grandkids and their mother (yes, that would be my daughter, the GAP) to visit Coco yesterday at her new job at the plant nursery, and there on the grounds — Serenity Park.  Anything but serene.  All the cages were carefully marked “donated in memory” of someone dear, but obviously not dear enough to take on the family parrot.

As I walked in, I heard, “Hi, Sweetheart.”  I smiled expecting (hoping for) the shirtless guy with the big pecs.  Instead, a pink cockatoo. 

Another cockatoo enjoyed my singing, even dancing.  Actually he flapped his wings violently.  I think that means he enjoyed my singing.

On the way home, the Bug asked me what my biggest fear was.  He was reading a book with lots of long phobias listed.  “Dying in the bathtub,” I answered.  It’s always been my biggest fear.

“Actually,” I heard Couponman say, “I think that would be the paramedics’ biggest fear — finding you naked in the bathtub.”  He laughed.  One last time, I might add.

The Bug talked about a fear called Chirophobia.  “What’s that,” I asked, then answered my own question, “A fear of donuts.”  (Think hard, you’ll get it  — Churro-phobia)

“No,” answered Couponman, “that would be Hole-a-phobia.”

The conversation continued, until Couponman interrupted it with a question directed to the Bug.  “Do you know what’s under your hair?”

“My head,” he answered.

“No,” prodded Couponman, “the skin under your hair.”

“My scalp,” said the Bug.

“You mean you just had this random thought to ask him if he knew what a scalp was,” said the GAP.  Couponman nodded.

“Haven’t you realized by now,” I said, “all his thoughts are random.”  Ha, ha.  Now we’re even.

Where does one go for serenity?

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5. Play it again, grandma