Jacko parrots were forbidden to enter the Soviet Union because of alcohol.

sergeyas 2012.04.06 16:21 #8221

Jacko parrots were forbidden to enter the Soviet Union, but almost all of them were brought in from Angola, bypassing customs in a cunning way. In order to transport live cargo, it was necessary for the cargo to behave as if it were dead, i.e. not fluttering and generally pretending to be a grilled chicken, only a small one. Therefore the parrots were simply drugged with a tablespoon of medical alcohol, after which they passed out for at least 24 hours and represented no more than a wordless anatomical textbook on the structure of the bird's body in a state of anabiosis. Usually the comatose animal was submerged into a container similar to a blueprint tube, in which neat holes were drilled, and in such a condition was driven to a new place of residence.
Who knows, maybe this time the alcohol was diluted or the parrot was experienced, but at the customs inspection, when the officer opened the bag, the tube for the drawings suddenly rattled and a disheveled parrot crawled out of it.
- Oops!" the customs officer could only say, "What is this illegal cargo you are carrying, comrade?!
The cargo owner was about to explain himself, but Jacko shook himself, spread his feathers and shouted to the whole airport:
- I am Russian! I am Russian! Russian!!!
How could he not let such a comrade into his homeland?
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Нелегка попугаячья жизнь

Есть такие попугаи – Жако. Many have heard of them, but hardly anyone has seen them. They look unattractive, small, two-three times more in size than wavy ones, grayish, without special ornaments. One thing that sets them apart is their intelligence. Very quickly they learn human speech, moreover, they can use the obtained knowledge in time and to the place.
Jacko parrots live in Africa, and, despite their wildness, very quickly become accustomed to people, especially if they begin to communicate with them as chicks. One of the military advisers brought such a chick from a business trip. Small and naked, not yet covered with feathers, the officers fed it from their hands and tamed it in every way. In a year it had grown and, though it did not learn to fly, started to run about the place.
By that time the little grey parrot knew a lot of Russian, English and Portuguese (Portuguese-English dialect, it is spoken by the majority of Angolan population) swear words and used them in everyday life to its utmost.

When his master went to wash in the morning, Jacko would run out of his room and walk proudly down the corridor, looking into all the rooms and commenting on what he saw:
- How could he? What the fuck? - He asked as he peered into the first room where everyone was sleeping, which was not consistent with the parrot routine.
- Well, well, well! - he concluded and moved on.
- Smee-irnaaaah! - Jaco yelled at the entrance to another room. There dwelt Major-General M., the most senior among military councillors, and renowned for his commanding voice, and also for his love of giving good-looking commands which the blacks would never see the light of day.
- Huh? What?! Where? Fuck!!! - The awakening general would yell, then turn back to the wall and mutter, "Drop dead, feathered one.
- You're the fool! - The parrot kept up the good work and moved on.

The interpreters in the next room were only prying eyes, and Jaco was addressing them in bourgeois:
- Fuck you, aren't you, gentlemen?
- Jaco! Don't make me angry! - Denis grunted.
- Maya does not understand you! - the parrot proudly proclaimed and moved on. Colonel Crocodile was usually wide awake by this time, busy with his work, writing letters to his home country and drinking the local beer. His room was just after the interpreters. Jacko used to linger there and proclaim in the mentor-like tone of the educational adviser:
- Drinking again, comrades?! How dare you!
- Don't tell me how to live! - Crocodile replied and held out his hand to the parrot. He strutted to him and then climbed up on his index finger on the perch and talked:
- "No p-p-p-p-p-p-azies! No por-r-r-azity! There's drunkenness and debauchery everywhere! Don't you think so? - and looked Colonel Crocodile in the eye questioningly.
- I fully agree! - Crocodile supported him and poured beer into a saucer for the parrot.
- Urr-rah! - The parrot proclaimed a toast and drank, - Uhhhh, the spirit!

Since Colonel Crocodile's room along the corridor was by no means the last, and Crocodile wasn't the only one enjoying his beer on a hot morning - Jaco was getting to his master, already coming out of the shower, in a state of some alcoholic intoxication.
- Oh, you bastards..." said the parrot's owner sadly, "You got him drunk again. What am I going to do with you?
- Let's go on a pussy run! - The parrot replied and they both took the hangover to their room...

Meanwhile it was getting close to demobilisation, Jacko was about to leave for his home country. The suitcases were packed, the photographs printed, the tickets bought, the jeep refuelled to the airport, in short, in half a day it would soon be the motherland, cold and terribly wet compared to Luanda. Russian is everywhere, not just among the locals. Negroes are few and unarmed everyone. Poverty, but not the same. I missed it, in a way.
What about the parrot?
Why not do as the other councillors have done for generations? Get the warrior drunk to bogatyr's sleep and carry him directly in his luggage? However, there was no such thing! The ancestors said that one teaspoon of pure alcohol is enough for a small parrot to stay motionless for twenty-four hours. If the parrot is big - then a tablespoon.
The council of war, after doping, decided that Jacko was big. Immediately alcohol was poured into a tablespoon and presented to the parrot.
- Alcohol! - said the parrot and drank it.
Then he hiccupped and said:
- Oh frost, frost...
- It seems not enough... - said the owner of the feathered.
- Don't frost me," reported Jacko.
- So let's pour some more, - suggested the general.
We have poured more. The parrot hesitatedly stomped around the food, squinting one and another eye at him. He showed that he wanted to drink, but was somehow afraid. Finally, having lost his nerve, he drank a second tablespoon of alcohol.
- Don't mo-r-r-zee me! My horse! - he said, shook himself and fell on his side.
- Oh, thank goodness. Let's put him in a container and go, men," said the owner of the bird and got up from the table.

- Drunkards! There are only drunks all around, - said Jacko suddenly and wiggled his clawed paws.
Everyone froze. The councillors silently and intently counted the amount of alcohol in two tablespoons relative to their size. While they were counting, Jacko flicked his beak and stood up. With his crest cocked high, he said:
- "Let's go for a walk, let's go for a walk! Hussar-rah! Champagne for the horse!
- Oh, my goodness! He's about to go on the rampage,' said the interpreter.
- A strong vagabond," muttered the general.
- Well, you bastards! - The parrot's master grumbled, "You have made me drunk the bird after all! I'll show you!
- Come on, don't shout, you didn't get him drunk, you trained him. Otherwise, if I wasn't used to it, I'd lose my flippers, or rather my wings.
- Yeah? What am I supposed to do now?
- First, to calm down, and second, to pour some more. It's just that Jacquot's a hard nut to crack. He won't die in the cold now.

After the third one, the parrot really fell into a deep, drunken sleep and was packed into the luggage. Of course, he has not noticed the flight since he had been asleep up to the end of the travel and he woke up only in the house of his master. When he woke up and got out of the box, the compassionate colonel was already holding a saucer of beer:
- How was it, Jacky? No headache?
The parrot woke up, raised his crest and said:
- It's fucking cold! - Then he went over to the saucer and hung over. The old yeast inebriation returned, and he went to the box, where he lay down comfortably.
- Just like you," remarked the host's wife angrily, who had observed the whole scene from beginning to end.
- Faggots! - shouted Jacko and fell asleep.
- Just like you! - said the wife with conviction.

© drblack

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