Duncan Harley

Molly the parrot finally and irretrievably signed her death warrant today with her rendering of yet another unwarranted and unwanted joke and I must warn you that this is quite the most terrible parrot joke I have ever had the displeasure to stumble across on this deserted and god forsaken island. Even my new companion Man March seemed pleased at my action despite the fact that - at least as far as I am aware, he understands little or nothing about either the English language or syntax: ‘Squawk. After more than 40 years of marriage, a woman’s husband suddenly dies. Squawk Squawk For several months she sat alone in her house with the shades pulled and the doors locked. Finally she decided she needed to do something about her situation. The loneliness was killing her. Squawk Squawk. Squawk Squawk. She remembered that her husband had a friend who owned a nice pet store — a pet might be good company. So, Squawk Squawk, she dropped in one afternoon to look over the pet selection. S...

Eager for slave labour I foolishly embarked on a slave gathering voyage and now find myself shipwrecked and alone on a deserted island off the coast of Trinidad. It seems that I am the sole survivor of the venture and I must now seek both sustenance and shelter in this strange and foreign land. The wreck has so far yielded both gunpowder and food plus some fragments of timber from which I have constructed a rudimentary shelter. There was also a rifle and some barrels of rum. Both of which I shall put to good use. The island is quite lush but deserted and providentially has both water and goats in abundance. Fortunately, my journal floated ashore amongst the wreckage and over the coming days of isolation I am intent on recording my lonely struggle. I may well have been hallucinating, but I swear I saw a parrot amongst the treetops … this must surely be a good omen. Duncan Harley is a writer and blogger living in the Garioch. His books are available from Amazon. Just ...