My Parrot Won’t Stop Telling on Me!

When I brought home a parrot named Tango from a rescue shelter, I thought I was just adopting a colorful companion. What I didn’t realize was that I was welcoming the most talkative, nosy, and traitorous bird ever born into my life.

Tango was a stunning green Amazon parrot with bright orange feathers around his eyes and a beak sharper than my mom’s judgment. He could mimic sounds perfectly — microwave beeps, phone rings, doorbells, even the hiss of the pressure cooker. But his real talent was mimicking voices. And unfortunately, his favorite voice was mine.

It started with small things. I was sneaking chips from the pantry at 2 a.m. one night when I heard a loud, mocking whisper:

“Sssshh! Don’t tell Mom!”

I froze. I turned slowly, chip halfway to my mouth, and there he was — perched like a green snitch on top of the fridge, watching me with one eye and repeating the phrase again.

“Sssshh! Don’t tell Mom!”

I laughed nervously. “Okay, funny bird. Good joke.”

The next morning at breakfast, my mom squinted at me.

“Did you go into the pantry last night?”

Before I could lie, Tango piped up from his cage:

“I just want ONE chip! Just ONE! Don’t tell Mom!”

I nearly choked on my toast.

That was just the beginning.

Within a week, Tango had memorized half the things I never wanted anyone to hear. Things I muttered under my breath, private conversations, silly secrets. He had a particular talent for choosing the most embarrassing moment to share them.

Like the day my crush, Sarah, came over to work on a school project. Things were going great — we were laughing, vibing, even sharing earbuds. Then Tango squawked loudly:

“Ooooh, Sarah’s here! Gonna brush your teeth now, huh?!”

I turned bright red. Sarah burst out laughing. I wanted to vanish.

Or the time I was arguing with my sister and said, “You act like a drama queen over EVERYTHING.” A full day later, while she was quietly watching TV with my parents, Tango squawked:

“DRAMA QUEEN! DRAMA QUEEN!”

My sister slowly turned toward me, her eyes glowing with fury. “What did you just call me?”

I pointed at Tango. “Not me! HIM!”

The final straw came during a family dinner. My uncle was visiting. He was one of those people who acted like he knew everything, always bragging about his business, his car, his golf game.

I’d once muttered under my breath after a phone call with him:

“Man, Uncle Amir talks more than he listens. He could bore a brick to sleep.”

Guess who remembered that?

Yup. Right in the middle of dinner, with Uncle Amir going on and on about his golf score, Tango squawked loudly from the corner:

“You could bore a brick to sleep!”

The entire table went silent. My dad dropped his fork. My mom gasped. Uncle Amir blinked.

Then he said, “Excuse me?”

Tango repeated — louder this time:

“BORE A BRICK TO SLEEP!”

I laughed nervously. “Wow, uh... he picks up all sorts of random stuff... you know how parrots are!”

He didn’t believe me. Nobody did.

Eventually, I had to train Tango not to mimic me. It took weeks of whispering around him, rewarding silence, and resisting the urge to mutter anything scandalous near his cage.

To this day, he still occasionally blurts out something that makes people suspicious.

But hey, at least I’ve stopped sneaking chips at night.

And every time I hear,

“Sssshhh! Don’t tell Mom!”

…I roll my eyes and laugh.

Because life with Tango may be chaotic, but it’s never boring.