Conversations with The Parrot

Dressed in green, Mr. Parrot hopped down my balcony parapet.
'I see you have resorted to walking, Mr. Parrot. Perhaps you should buy some heels...you know, to help with the height ,' I said cheerily.
'Good Morning to you too, my dear,' Mr. Parrot replied in a dispassionate Forest Whitaker tone. 'Have you seen my hat?'
'Umm no,' I said, a bit disappointed. 'What are you, a Leprechaun?'
Unruffled by my question, Mr. Parrot quietly preened his feathers.
In a bid to get his attention, I continued, 'You should get your tail cut! It's out of shape.'
'You know, my dear,' he looked at me solemnly with his one lazy eye. 'Your snarks about my appearance don't bother me. I'm not human.'

Before I could reply, he turned away and dived off into the blue summer sky.
'Wait...,' I called out to him. 'I have your hat.... I won't give it to you!'
It was late. He had already become a distant speck.
What a show off, I thought. From tomorrow, I'll stick to making fun of humans. At least they can't fly.