518 - Got Hitch-hikers?


 "Keep your damned mouth shut," chirps the parakeet inside your purse. "I swear if you say anything to the cop I'll shoot him in the head, then I'll shoot you."

You're not sure if the adorable bird has an equally adorable gun stowed in your purse somewhere, but you figure it's best not to take any chances. The officer may have a family, and you know a gaping head wound would just ruin your hair.

"I told you," the parakeet continues, "I'm getting off this island, and I'll do whatever I have to in order to make it off this island."

All you have to do is make it through the TSA checkpoint and you'll be home free. He promised he'd let your family live if you snuck him through security, and you know he wasn't lying - he was stuffed to the gills with peanut butter when he said it.

You walk nonchalantly though the metal detector and it lets out a digital wail.

"Shit!" the songbird screams. "My leg clip. Run, asshole! Run or your mother dies first!"

You comply, but the guards are too many and you were never particularly good at dodging bullets. As your life's blood inches slowly out over the stained cement floor of the terminal, you wonder why the damn bird couldn't have flown himself.