“Jamie, can I ask you a question?”

Jamie bent the end of the page of One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest and folded it against his pillow. Jamie preferred lighter reads, like Blue Beard, but Vlad liked the philosophical novels, most of which related to his life. One Flew over the Cuckoo’s nest just happened to be about insane people.

“I can’t believe you think One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest is more troubling than Blue Beard,” Jamie often said.

“One of the characters commits suicide in One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest.”

“Yeah? And Blue Beard hangs all his wives’ night gowns in a secret room,” he countered, “While they’re still in them.”

“The author of my book faked his own suicide.”

“Wow, that’s sooo amazing,” Jamie said, “What kind of people do you think created Blue Beard? I bet they all ended up committing suicide. And it’s just like you to enjoy that kind of book. It’s just like that you poem you like. The one that starts with it was not death, for I stood up. Obviously you have an obsession with suicidal authors and 19th century, emo poets.”

“Jamie, can I talk to you?” Rodney repeated, interrupting Jamie’s reflection, who sighed. Inwardly, Vlad sighed too. As you would expect, Vlad’s sigh was deeper and more profound.

“Rodney,” Jamie said, pressing his lips together.

“Yes?”

“I won’t scratch your back. I’ve told you - ”

“That’s not what I wanted to ask you.”

“Listen, I won’t – Wait, there’s something else you’re going to ask?”

Jamie stared, shocked.

“Yeah,” Vlad said, smiling sheepishly, “It’s about - ”

“Wait, wait,” Jamie said, shaking his head, as if to knock the water from his ears, “You have a question that does not involve contact between your back and my hands?”

“Well, yeah,” Rodney said, now getting upset.

“Halleluiah!”

Rodney came over to sit on the bed opposite from Jamie’s. The usual occupant of the bed, Rob, had left for the play room only five minutes ago, and was now debating over the hottest cast member on the American Idol. Rob voted for Syesha Mercado and supported his argument with an explanation of why he’d hit that and how. Sociopath Sam said Ryan Seacrest, and continued to embellish, egged on by the awkward silence which descended upon the play room.

Rodney looked down at his hands.

“My question is a little strange. Is that okay?”

Since when, Jamie wondered, had Rodney’s questions not be strange. Or anything he said, not been strange?

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Jamie, why are you afraid of parrots?”

Jamie was taken aback. He was hoping for something better than this, especially considering the usual topic Rodney chose for his conversations. Ever since the last incident with the All Powerful Creator, Rodney’s requests for people to scratch his back had risen in number, like a nervous compulsion.

A week ago, a new nurse with especially long nails agreed to scratch Rodney’s back after he made a particularly awful fuss. After that, she became much more suitable to our tastes, and we gifted her with an honorary name. We decided on Dawn, taken from Dawn of Dead.

“I think Dawn has a crush on me,” Rob said once to a circle of patients.

“Yeah?”

“She gazes at me.”

Everyone smiled at this.

“Robert,” Vlad said, “I believe that is called a traumatized stare.”

“Hey,” Rob said defensively, “I don’t see her staring at you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t see her staring at me” Vlad said, “You wouldn’t be labeled paranoid if you thought people were staring at everyone except for you.”

“Jamie, are you paying attention?” Rodney said, snapping Jamie out of his thoughts, “Why are parrots so horrifying to you?”

Jamie supposed he might as well tell Rodney. After all, it was a special occasion. He doubted he would ever here an original question from Rodney again.

“I had a very loud aunt who owned a couple of them. My parents insisted on taking me to visit her every weekend, and they also bit my fingers. I hope all her parrots are dead by now. I didn’t like her too much either. Why do you want to know?”

“There’s something I have to show you.”

“Oh?” Jamie said, now a little nervous. After all, Rodney didn’t think up these questions on his own.

From his coat pocket, Rodney withdrew a velvet box. One just large enough to enclose a wedding ring. Rodney held the box out to Jamie, and opened it, letting out something silver and tiny like a wasp.

Inside Jamie, Vlad let out a sardonic sigh.

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” he said.

“Isn’t it cute? If you look closely, its wings and legs are real parrot, but its body and head are robotic,” Rodney smiled.

Jamie spotted the featured Rodney referred to, and slowly inched along the bed, away from the buzzing object. Too late. It turned towards him, identifying and processing him. The tiny machine, no larger than the tip of Jamie’s finger, glared. Its microscopic red eyes narrowed in its tiny silver head, it beat its metallic wings, and it moved towards Jamie like a predator stalking its prey. It stopped in front of Jamie’s trembling nose, and opened its beak.

“Squeak!” it trilled ferociously.   

Jamie let out a horrified roar and fell from the bed.

“Relax,” Rodney cried.

In response to his friend’s attempt to calm him, Jamie tried to wiggle under the bed, but his but wouldn’t quite fit.

“Call the Head Nurse!”

Rodney watched the silver bullet jabbing into Jamie’s robust behind, and a little smile played over his face.

“You know what?” Rodney said, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to him, “I’ll call the Head Nurse. She might enjoy this.”

Five minutes later, Rodney hurried back with the Nurse in tow, a giddy smile still on his face.

“Mr. Nicolie, stop your tantrum this minute,” the Head Nurse ordered.

“There’s a beast attacking me!”

“Mr. Nicolie, I demand that you behave yourself.”

Head Nurse loomed above the helpless Jamie. Then, from the depths of her uniform, she withdrew a taser and moved her finger over the trigger.

“I have a taser in my hands, and if you do not stop at once, I will be forced to use it.”

The parrot flew away from Jamie and turned to face the Head Nurse, who suddenly cocked her head to hear the sound of its feathered wings beating.

“What’s that sound?”

Then, the robot opened its beak, and a loud voice emitted from inside its tiny body. Shocked, the Head Nurse dropped her taser, and backed away.

“Dear Imaginary Minions,” a voice thundered, “Your Diabolical Mistress, the Creator of Fantasies, Overseer of the Institution, Character Grave Digger, and – (following titles omitted for the sake of time.)”

“She’s briefer than usual,” Rodney whispered approvingly.

“No less vain,” Jamie said, but bit his lip when the parrot turned its squinting eyes to him. He remembered that she could hear every word he said, and probably imagined it before he said it.

“Minions, the community which spurred your fictional births has made a decision.”

The parrot regarded the group clustered together near the door.

“You know what?” Jamie said, speaking to Rodney but his eyes never leaving the little robot.

“What?”

“Run!”

Jamie, the Head Nurse, and Rodney all swung out of the door and stampeded down the hall, followed by the buzzing speck which flew after them. At the end of the hall, they all split up. The Head Nurse barreled in the office, while both Rodney and Jamie swung into the bathroom.

Despite searching and wandering throughout the Institution, everyone decided that the Head Nurse was gone for good, along with the cyborg parrot and a few crackers. Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Damn it,” he said, his shoulder slumping, “I really wanted a cracker.”