Ripoff's Believe it or Not 
                              by Homer Pheeder 

I once had a bisexual parrot who couldn't be trusted with anything, anyone,
anytime. I turned my back, late one August night to mix up some firebombs
for a radical girlfriend and the damned parrot jacked up her skirt, whistled
and then stole the Uzi submachine gun she kept in a secret hidey hole for
nasty occasions. 

Needless to say, after several similar attempts on the parrot's part, he
became more bold, and would put the make on nearly anything he saw. Why, one
time he even tried to put the make on me, as I was coming out of the bathtub
with my pet rubber ducky firmly at my side. With a feral eye to my physique,
he darted quickly, but AHA! Not quick enough. I snapped him with my towel,
sending him skittering into the corner the tub a sodden mess of feathers,
mascara and birdpoop. 

Reasonable birds would take a hint. The very next day, when returned home
from work, though I found my rubber ducky the corner, obviously having just
been pillaged in a most ungentlemanly manner, indeed. Vengeance was on the
map, yessir.

The very next week, a friend of mine drove up for the weekend from the
Oskkoshbygod, Wisconsin. No timid, shrinking violet, this man. We are
talking prime time, grade A, USDA-approved male type of the species. Hell,
the man clanked when he walked into the living room. What more can say? 

It didn't take my bisexual parrot long to fall in love, swoon and fall from
his perch strategically onto the floor in front of my friend, who innocently
enough, dropped his bags and picked up the fallen bird. Needless say, the
parrot made his move. With a whistle and shriek, he promptly tried to put
the make on my buddy who, once he realized what was going on, inquired about
my pet. 

After I related several the strange instances where friend bird had sexually
assaulted or molested nearly everything that wasn't nailed down, my macho
buddy came up with a solution called roast parrot under glass. The only way
you can trust a bisexual parrot is to eat them, preferably well enough done
so that nothing contagious happens. 

Yours truly 
Healthline U.S.A.