My neighbor, Henry Johnson, would be out of town for two weeks. His wife had just left him, and he needed to clear his head. So he asked me to house sit. As a broke college student, I said yes.
The housesitting duties included taking care of the Johnsons’ parrot—a 17-year-old African Grey named Snickers. I didn’t know much about birds, but he’d left me detailed instructions on how to take care of her.
The first night of my job, I decided to stay for a few hours. I needed to get a problem set done, and the Johnsons’ large, empty house was the perfect study place. After feeding Snickers and giving her water, I got set up on the couch.
But it wasn’t long before she interrupted me.
“STOP!”
I whipped around. Snickers was standing on her perch, staring at me with one gray eye. “STOP! STOP!” she repeated.
Rolling my eyes, I went back to the problem set. Differential equations. Why did I decide to major in engineering, again? ! tapped my pencil against the page. Maybe it’s time for another snack break.
“STOP, OH GOD, STOP.”
Snickers was bouncing from one perch to the other, bobbing her head, as carefree as could be. But the way she said that sent shivers down my spine. She was clearly imitating someone in distress. Probably just repeating from a movie, I told myself.
But I was so, so wrong.
“STOP, OH GOD, STOP. HENRY, STOP.”
Henry.
That was his name. Henry Johnson.
I turned and stared at the parrot. She stared back at me and whistled a few times. And them she continued.
“STOP OH GOD STOP HENRY STOP OH GOD”
My blood turned to ice. I stared at the parrot, my heart hammering in my chest. What, exactly, happened here? What is she repeating?
I decided to call my parents. But they didn’t seem to share my level of concern. “Your Aunt Sheila had a parrot,” my dad said. “That thing would pick up all kinds of crazy words. Movies, phone conversations… it’d scream, say the f-word, everything. I wouldn’t worry, Abbi. Especially with Raquel leaving him and all… they probably had some huge fights the parrot picked up on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it got worse.”
And he was right. Over the course of the next hour, Snickers continued to repeat “stop” and “Henry,” but also said a variety of other things, from curses to pleasantries to movie quotes. “FUCK YOU.” “I’LL BE BACK.” “HOW ARE YOU TODAY?” “COMMENT ALLEZ-VOUS?”
Finally, around ten o’clock, I started getting ready to leave. Threw my notebook in my backpack, switched off the lights, and headed for the door. “Goodbye Snickers,” I called out into the darkness. Then I reached for the doorknob—
“PUT THE KNIFE DOWN.”
I froze in my tracks.
I couldn’t see Snickers anymore. But I could hear her, rustling about in her cage. Talons clacking against the metal rails, feathers flapping in the silence. Maybe she’s just quoting another movie. Maybe she’s—
“PUT THE KNIFE DOWN HENRY,” the bird repeated.
My heart dropped.
“STOP OH GOD STOP OH GOD.”
Snickers was agitated. I could hear her feathers hitting the metal rails of her cage as she flapped her wings. Thunk—she hopped back and forth, perch to perch, as she clicked her beak erratically.
“STOP OH GOD STOP.”
I stood there for a long time. Seconds stretched into minutes. But she didn’t say anything more. Just clicked and whistled and flapped around in her cage.
I flicked the lights back on, dropped my backpack on the floor, and made a beeline for the Johnsons’ bedroom.
Henry was very clear with his instructions. I wasn’t supposed to enter any of the bedrooms or the basement. I was supposed to stay on the main level, no matter what.
But I climbed the stairs anyway. After looking around, I found their bedroom. It was neat and tidy, the burgundy bedspread laying smoothly over the mattress. I walked around, my heart hammering, hoping what I was imagining wasn’t true.
But it was.
Because in their closet, I found a small box. A small box containing Raquel Johnson’s wallet… and drivers license.
I made my way back down the stairs, my legs shaking. Snickers looked at me curiously from her cage. I turned out the lights, locked the door, and hurried down the sidewalk. As soon as I get home, I’m calling the cops. As soon as I—
Ping.
I pulled out my phone to see a text.
From Henry Johnson.
I asked you not to enter the bedroom.
I whipped around. But the dark sidewalk extended behind me, totally empty. How did he… Oh. A camera. Of course. I broke into a run towards my parents’ house, at the corner. Almost there—
Ping.
I know what you saw.
I sprinted harder, faster. My feet slapped against the pavement. Almost there—
Ping.
I didn’t pull out my phone. Didn’t stop until I was locked safely in my parents’ house. Then, finally, I read the text that he sent.
If you tell anyone else, you will pay.
***
I didn’t listen. I called the police. And after a thorough search of his house, they found something horrible.
Raquel’s body, in the freezer in the basement.
Henry was trying to flee town, but get a head start by making it look like he was just going on vacation. So he hired me to housesit. I don’t think he realized Snickers might repeat what she heard that night.
And sometimes, I wonder, if Snickers knew more than she let on. Because, apparently, she was Raquel’s pet. From before they were even married.
Maybe she wasn’t mindlessly repeating.
Maybe she was trying to get justice for Raquel.