[WP] You have a very unique parrot. He repeats things you say...from the future. One day, he says something both disturbing and confusing. You realize you must figure it out, no matter the cost.

I didn't have the slightest clue where it came from. If I hadn't taken that Monday off of work, I might not have even known it had landed on my apartment balcony at all and maybe, if I was lucky, it would have left before I came home. I shouldn't have taken that day off at all, considering how quickly I managed to get fired from my last job. I only lost it due to a paperwork error in HR, though. They couldn't validate my employment status or something and wouldn't go through the hiring process again. I don't understand why that always happens, but I'm digressing.. Anyway, I only noticed the sound at all because the ceaseless squawking that I had assumed must be a bird's nest turned out to be, upon closer listening, english. I don't live in the best neighborhood in the city, so fighting outside is not uncommon, but it became louder with every minute until I could no longer ignore it.

"YOUR PROBLEM NOW. YOUR PROBLEM NOW. YOUR PROBLEM NOW."

I opened the balcony door to find a small grey parrot standing on the ground directly in front of me. Suddenly, silence. Attached to its leg with thin green ribbon was a small folded strip of paper. I walked back inside and retrieved a pair of scissors from a drawer on my desk and returned to the balcony, shutting the door behind me. The ribbon cut, I unfolded the note and read it aloud. On it, typed simply in all-caps bold typeface, was just the phrase that the bird had been screaming to me from my patio.

It then struck me how peculiar this bird seemed to be. It didn't hop around, didn't try to fly, didn't move at all except to turn its head toward me and stare. I am still unsure of how it managed to get to my third floor balcony at all, as it never did move. I walked back inside and shut the door, leaving the parrot on the porch. Thirty minutes later, I peered through the door's blinds. Still there. An hour after that, still there. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but I think something deep inside me told me at that moment that this bird was my problem now. I found an old shoebox underneath my bed, padded it with newspaper, and placed it on the floor of my pantry. After a deep breath, I once again opened the patio door and carried the seemingly immobile bird to its new bed.

Immediately upon setting it down, it began yelling.

"SHOULD FEED IT. SHOULD FEED IT. SHOULD FEED IT."

I realized at this point that I had not yet properly thought through the responsibilities that came with my new friend. A fruitless search through my cabinets confirmed that, as I already knew, I had no food in my small studio suitable for this guest. There was, however, a small pet shop down the street within walking distance, next to a pharmacy that I was overdue to visit anyway. I called the pet store and explained to the employee that I had acquired a parrot and did not know what I should feed it. He informed me that they had exactly what I needed in stock and twenty minutes later, the bag was in my apartment. Though it became quiet, the parrot paid no interest to the seed I had placed in front of it. The rest of the day was silent.

I awoke late into the night to screams and squawks from the pantry. I ran from my bed and rubbed my eyes as I pleaded with the bird to be quiet.

"Please stop! Stop!" I shouted, to which the bird responded: "I'M SO SORRY." "Shh! SHH! You have to be quiet!" "I'M SO SORRY. I'M SO SORRY."

I couldn't help but respect that, though the bird was extremely disruptive, it was at least apologetic. The noise ended with a knock at my front door. The parrot's screaming was replaced with that of my neighbor, who - let's say "energetically" - explained to me that she was unable to sleep with all of the yelling coming from my apartment. I wasn't surprised to see her. She complained frequently about noise when there really wasn't any, and now she actually had something worth complaining about.

"Yes, I understand... I apologize... Yes I do know where you're coming from... I'm so sorry. It won't happen again. Good night."

She scoffed and walked back into her own domicile, and I was able to sleep through the rest of the night.

For the next few days, the bird would not eat as far as I could tell. In fact, the only time it displayed any sign of life was when I tried to sleep. On the second night, it called out to me "NO, PLEASE DON'T" with a volume greater than any creature I'd ever heard. Again, my neighbor knocked, and again I had to apologize and beg her to not call the police. Quickly, I was learning that there was no solution to this. I put the bird back on the porch, but its squawks only became louder. I ran down three flights of stairs and put it outside my apartment building, but still I could hear it in my room as if it were right next to me. Somehow, it was actually a little quieter when it was inside.

The third night there must have been some thing, some idea, that I was failing to understand, because the bird would not stop telling me that "YOU DON'T GET IT. YOU DON'T GET IT." I wasn't too surprised when the police arrived. What I was, was sleep deprived and angry. To say the least, the interaction could have gone better. When I tried to explain my situation, that it was my bird who was making all the noise, the police weren't having it. The bird never speaks when somebody is at the door. Their only answer was an attempt to place me in handcuffs within my doorway, which I fought with fury.

"How are you not grasping what I'm telling you! Are you morons? You have to be morons at this point! You don't ge..." I could not finish my sentence. I became quiet, as did the two officers in response. That parrot.. had it known? How could it know? Had it done this before? In a matter of a few seconds, I tried to recall everything the bird had said to me over the past few days. Are those things that I had said? Did I say them first? I couldn't quite remember.. maybe. It's possible I did.

"Please just come look," I asked the police. I think that they sensed the concern in my voice. They followed me through the kitchen to the pantry and looked inside. "That's what has been causing all of this," I told them as the parrot looked up at us silently.

"... where?" asked one of the men. "What do you mean 'where'?" I asked. As if on cue, the parrot began screaming.

"GET OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT."

Something within me snapped. I saw only red and thought only in fragments. I widened my eyes at the police. Now they knew. Before they had time to react, I quickly procured a knife from the kitchen draw and locked myself in the pantry with my friend. The police banged and called into their radios for backup, but I had no other choice. I stabbed and sliced at the parrot frantically, and finally it moved. It flapped its wings and clawed at me, scratching my arms as I continued to cut. And still it continued to scream. "GET OUT."

The pantry door burst open and at this point my protests were no longer enough. I was handcuffed and taken to the police car.

That was the beginning of a confusing legal process that I had very little control over, and it's what led me here. The doctors keep trying to tell me what they think happened as if they know the facts better than I do They don't. I was there and they weren't, and the only reason I can't leave the hospital is because of a false police report. I don't know what those officers had against me, but they made a mistake. I don't know what it is, but something about me must attract paperwork errors.

Every single day I have to tell them what really happened, and every single day they refuse to listen. I did not scream at the police from the pantry. It was the bird who put the cuts on my arms. And the shoebox was not empty. It was not empty. It was not empty.

/r/WritingPrompts Thread