Chapter 6

6: Mina was given the assignment to find out more about that detective who, she remembered from the news the night before, had a talking parrot.  She had a brand new seemingly mutual respect for the senior editor.  "Thanks for this chance, Mr. Abbot.  I'm still in shock."
  "Well, as you know, Marble Cliffs Today has always tried to emphasize clarity, directness and understandability in all its news stories.  A lot of these young writers today just churn out articles like a damn conveyor belt with only profit in mind.  I'm always looking for someone who won't sacrifice quality for speed.  This detective, Kenn Varson, has gotten a little attention because people claim that his talking parrot helps him solve his cases. Most of my writers would play this up and sensationalize it to make an easy buck.  I don't want our paper to turn into a trashy tabloid with no self-respect.  What I'd like is for you to go talk to him and see if you can get the straight dope from him."
  "Keep it grounded in reality.  No problem, sir.  But what if he really believes that his parrot helps him?"
  "Then interview the parrot," he chuckled.  "I'm sure you'll do just fine.  Don't worry about a thing."
  After that short conversation, Mina was off on her first journalistic endeavor.  She drove over to the address that she was given where she would be able to find Kenn Varson so that she could interview him.  She jotted down a few questions on a piece of paper, but otherwise had no real idea what she was going to do.  "Oh, really?  Magic parrot, huh?  Do you think maybe he can figure out whatever happened to my dignity?  Oh, it died a cruel and agonizing death when I got the desk next to Jeffrey the Annoyer?  Thanks, Mr. Parrot."  She sighed as she got out of her car.
  It was a small one-story house in a working-class neighborhood.  The paint job was cracked but not yet chipped or peeling.  At some time in the distant past, there had been a pathetic attempt to grow grass in the front yard, but all that remained were small dead patches of brown fire hazards.  A lousy excuse for a porch stood in front of the house with two steps leading up to the front door.
  "He's going to see you," came a voice from behind Mina which startled her out of her thoughts.  She turned to see a little boy wearing a red and white striped shirt on a bicycle standing in the middle of the road.
  "What?" was all she could manage to get out.
  "That house," said the boy, pointing.  "He's going to see you."
  "The what?  The house is going to see me?"
  "No, HE is going to see you."  The little boy rode off down the road and rounded a corner leaving Mina all alone and suddenly feeling an eerie sense of vulnerability.  She felt as if she was being watched.