Marilyn
Well, my sister was four years older than me. She
still is, actually. Um, I remember once when I was
about ten years old, I had a pet, a bird. Um, it was a small green parrot called Charlie, and I really loved
him. He lived in a cage but I sometimes let him out to
fly around the house, you know so, so he could have
some freedom. And one day, I was in my bedroom
and I let him out, but then something happened – I
can't remember what and I forgot about him for a, for
a while, and then suddenly I couldn't see him anymore. And, well, I looked everywhere for him, I
looked all over the house, and I couldn't find him
anywhere, oh I cried and I cried because I was sure
that he had flown out of the window. And my parents
started to help me because they felt awful about it as
well. And just when I was completely hysterical my
sister admitted that, in reality, she had hidden him,
she had shut him inside a cupboard, can you believe.
Well, she opened the cupboard and poor Charlie was
there, he was so frightened, but we were all really
relieved to find him. My sister was so horrible that
day. Of course now we get on really well but I still
remember what she did to poor Charlie and
sometimes when she comes to see me I hide her car
keys or her purse or something just to remind her of
it. Is that bad?