Treasure Island!!! Read Online Free Page A

shampoo.
    â€œI came for a parrot.”
    For the benefit of anyone who has never been to a mall pet store, the people who work there don’t know a thing about pets, nor would they care to. Without any affect she led me to aisle nine. There, in the fluorescent corridor, after rows of twittering songbirds, none of whom caught my fancy, I discovered a cage labeled “Yellow-Naped Amazon.” Its occupant was one foot high and came at my eye like a bit of migraine, its feathers so brightly colored the air around them seemed to pulse. I studied the hard curled beak and two glittering eyes, one of which studied me. Then the bird made an unearthly noise, a metallic call pitched to pierce through hundreds of miles of Amazon canopy.
    â€œI don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl,” the salesgirl told me. “They don’t come in tagged. But we call it Richard. Little Richard.” Having done her duty, she turned away, and as the sweet perfume of her hair oil receded, a musty smell took precedence in my nostrils. Bird. Bird smell. Did I want to bring this thing into my workplace? It was larger and more alive than I had expected. Running back and forth along the perch, “Little Richard” let loose a long, harassing whistle.
    â€œI’m a fool, if you like”—I walked the aisles in panic—“and certainly I’m going to do a foolish, over-bold act, but I’m determined to do it”—which is what Jim Hawkins says when he sets out to recapture the ship from the pirates. I found the salesgirl, tapped her on the shoulder.
    â€œYou want him?”
    I clutched a shelf for balance and accidentally knocked down a noisy Swat ‘n’ Swing. “I do and I don’t, of course. I came for a parrot, but I wonder if a parrot is really the thing. Does he creep
you
out? Look at that tongue, I didn’t even realize birds had tongues. You’re probably getting minimum wage, and here I am, taking up your time, trying to figure out . . . I
love
your hair, by the way.”
    She didn’t smile; she heard that compliment all the time.
    â€œThe thing is, I’m torn. What do you think?”
    â€œWhy do you care what
I
think?”
    But I did care, I mean not pathologically, but a little. In another scenario, this girl and I might become friends. I looked at the bird and imagined it sitting on my shoulder and pecking my eyes out. The girl turned around to . . . “Wait!” I shrilled. I picked up the cage, produced the cash, and in a loud, jovial voice, announced that I would buy it.
    Â 
    I began to feel pretty excited as I walked the parrot back to The Pet Library. He was excited too. He screamed the whole way.
    A car filled with teenage boys came roaring by, its tires spitting mud, and one of the boys stuck out his head and called, “Eeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaa Polly, want a cracker?” which was not even
remotely
witty, and yet as witnesses to my bold business, they were somehow kindred; they were scrappy, fearless fellow adventurers. I waved and walked on, a smile on my face.

CHAPTER 4
    Â 
    A s soon as I got back to The Pet Library, the smile disappeared. The door, I now realized, I had left unlocked. This might not have mattered; in fact, at first I was relieved that, cage in hand, I wouldn’t have to fuss with the keys, and pushing my way in, I said, “Welcome home, Richard.” Immediately I sensed a disturbance. I placed Richard’s cage on the desk and caught sight of the marmalade cat, tied to a chair with a dog leash, like a prisoner awaiting interrogation. I leaped over and untied him, for which he thanked me not at all, only slunk off, his tail puffed up and bristling. A cat tree lay on the floor, its feather toys torn off; cabinets stood open; on the floor lay canned goods, bags of dog food. “What the hell?” I said.
    My first thought was the animal rights people, who for years had been sending Nancy hate mail. In the