“… Happy birthday to you!” sang Tom and all his extremely tall friends. I was just adopted from an orphanage, and I’m glad I was outta there. It was disgusting- the people there fed me food that tasted like , and made me sleep in a small cramped room. I don’t get it, either One day I was on my deathbed, the next I’m in an orphanage. I’m just so happy that my father's friends were all able to come to my party. I don’t know anybody, but they make my dad laugh, so I guess they could stay.

“What did you want for your birthday, Sammy?” my father, Tom, had asked me while slightly giggling.

 “Well, I really wanted a pet. A fish perhaps or maybe a hamster. Just to keep me company when you are away.” I replied, getting excited. Everyone else smiled and laughed- they somehow found it fascinating every time I spoke. I don’t understand it.

“Aw, look! Sammy’s feathers are getting ruffled!” some guy from the back pointed out. They all laughed once more, leaving me confused again. Tom left the room, then brought out a golden cage, and it was huge. It was three times the size of me, and blindingly bright.

“I hope you like your new room!” he told me. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Is this for a hamster?” I questioned. They all laughed once more. He picked me up as if I were still a baby, and brought me over to the cage. He opened the cage door while still holding me, and he gently placed me inside. He then closed the door and locked it. Everyone laughed once more. “Do I look like I belong in a cage to you?! Is this some kind of joke? What’s going on?” I screeched. They all kept on laughing. Do they find my confusion humorous? I tried to go with the flow, laughing along with them, but I became worried.

“Get me out of this cage immediately.” I demanded. I began panicking. Are they going to let me out? What kind of joke is this?

“Hey Tom! Why don’t you hang up the cage? I think your pet parrot might like the view!” somebody shouted over all the noise of people talking and some crappy pop music. Pet parrot?

“What the heck? Do I look like a parrot to you?!” I yelled at that disturbed man.

“Sounds like Sam likes the idea! Come on Sammy; let me get you up there.” He picked up the cage by the sides, and lifted it up. He placed the hook that was attached to this cage, and hooked that onto another hook onto the bright white ceiling.

By this point, I was shaking and crying. I keep asking Tom to unlock it, but he just looks at me, and then laughs. There are strangers in my house calling me names, I’m locked up in a cage, I’m hanging from the ceiling on an old hook, and everyone’s okay with this. This is no better than the orphanage. After a few minutes of talking/eating/laughing with all his friends about me, Tom shouted “Okay everybody! Present time!” They call sat cross legged on the wooden floor directly beneath me, and they each had a little bag or box with my name written on it. The only who gave me a decent gift was a sweet nice blonde - she gave me a full length mirror that you could hook onto this cage. Wait, no, let me correct that, my cage. Everyone else had gotten my parrot food, toys for me to chew on, a ladder to climb on, etc. This is, by far, the biggest and cruelest joke that anyone has ever played on me.

After a half hour or so of me screeching and crying, everybody, one by one, started leaving. By the time it was dark out, nobody was left but me and this strange man that thinks he’s my father.  Tom kept on trying to feed me crackers and talked in that baby voice all middle-aged people use. I’m furious. All this evening consists of is him saying “Sammy want a cracker?” in a baby voice, and me replying by spitting the cracker onto him, which he pretty much force-fed me. What has my life come to?

As soon as he left me alone, I immediately tried to open the door. The people at the orphanage had put my arms into red, feathery casts all over my body and nobody has bothered taking them out. I don’t exactly understand why they’re there, I’ve never broken both my arms, but they aren’t coming off anytime soon. The thing about these casts is that is also covers my fingers, so I can’t use my hands for any good purpose. So if I want to get out of this cage, I’m going to have to use my teeth. I spent almost all night working on this, but Tom woke up from all the noise I made. When I heard his bedroom door open, I started crying and yelling at him all over again. He walked up to the cage, and just stared at me until I shut up.

“I know what you need to keep you busy! That mirror that Megan gave to you. Remember that?” he said sleepily in his stupid baby voice. He opened the cage door, and immediately grabbed me with one hand so I couldn’t escape. I fought, bit, kicked, and yelled at him the entire him he was attaching the mirror to that cage. After a bit, he placed me into the cage once again. I looked at the mirror, and screamed until Tom put me and the cage outside. Everything clicked into place - the food, the cage, the name, the casts, everything. I’m a parrot. Oh my god. That’s just not something that happens every day.