Free as a Bird

“Hey, I was out in the marketplace and you’ll never guess what I found!”

Abu resisted being taken out of his nap, and would not open his eyes. He didn’t think the Genie was talking to him anyway.

He heard Iago say something but couldn’t make out the words. He only understood the Genie’s reply:

“No, you foul-mouthed little weirdo, you. There’s a parrot hanging from the window over the fruit-seller’s head.”

More parrots in Agrabah? A nightmare!

“So?” Iago scoffed, loud and audible now. “What, do you think I have nothing better to do than go look at a bird?”

“Maybe you’ll make a friend,” said the Genie. “Have some fun. Stop being so gosh-darn miserable once in a blue moon. Well, speaking of blue moons, I have some pretty urgent business in Cairo, just stopped by for a chat.”

“I don’t want to know what you’re doing and why it’s connected to ‘blue moons’, just go.”

“Is the monkey awake?”

“Yeah, he’s faking.”

Abu twitched. Jerk.

“Goodbye, Abu!” the Genie called, and he left.

That made it quiet again. Abu stretched in the sun and yawned. Hours were long when Aladdin was away, hanging out with his mate. That Jasmine! She wasn’t all that bad, maybe, but the way Aladdin did whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, it was nuts. Abu didn’t get it at all. Aladdin didn’t even seem to want anything in return. He’d used to make so much sense.

Abu wanted to get back to sleep, but a creaking noise filled the room.

A hoop on a rope hung in the window. It had been a gift from Aladdin. Iago, who was never satisfied, had complained at the time about being given a bird toy like a common parakeet or something like that, so Abu had pretended that he wanted to play on the makeshift perch. Then suddenly Iago had wanted it, and he loved to hang and climb on it, the rat fink. But he should be napping now, not swinging. He shouldn’t be up and swinging.

Abu cracked open one eye. Iago had beady little bird eyes that gleamed like counterfeit coins when he was thinking no-good thoughts, and they gleamed now. He was gnawing lightly on the side of his hoop, and swinging.

Abu asked him politely if he would like to take a nap, since there was no adventure going on for him to complain about having to go along on.

“You think I need an excuse to complain?”

Abu conceded that Iago did not. Maybe, he posited, being a crappy bird was enough of an excuse to complain.

“When you grow wings, come talk to me about bein’ a bird,” Iago said. He did not fly to his favorite cushion, or tuck his little head under his wing to sleep. He kept swinging.

Abu said that he was going to sleep now. He laid his head down.

The shoe dropped. “No you’re not, we’re going to the marketplace.”

Abu asked why, but Iago had already flown out the window. Abu went after him, as if drawn on a string.

Traveling together was a pain. Abu would swing and hop along the buildings, the windowsills and hanging clotheslines and all kinds of other things that must have been tailor-made for a monkey to swing on, and Iago would waddle around and fall behind and squawk for Abu to slow down. Either Abu would slow down, and plod around on his knuckles, or Abu would refuse to slow down, and Iago would fly. Then Abu would have to yell at him to slow down, and he either wouldn’t, or he would throw a hissy fit and insist that Abu carry him if he was going to be picky. Or... if the bird was really in a hurry... he would grab Abu’s tail, and they would fly together.

The streets of Agrabah spread out below Abu like a platter. He picked out three different good marks who wouldn’t notice being relieved of their purses, as his borrowed wings flapped overhead and made grumbly squawky sounds. When there were humans around, Iago only ever used their language. Sometimes, rarely, when he was alone with Abu he used his own- which mostly consisted of loud screaming.

Abu was beginning to wonder what was so important in the marketplace. It probably wasn’t good. One of these days, he should just say no. It wasn’t easy to say no to Iago. Most of the time he seemed to think of it as a challenge, and he got persuasive as a response.

They landed in a window, next to a small birdcage. “Oh, boy,” Iago muttered under his breath. “There it is.”

A little green bird was in that cage, with a tiny beak, a yellow head, and scalloped black and white wings. There was a blue strip of something stuck up above its beak. Its feathers were all messy, and there was a big bald spot on its chest.

It looked at Iago and Abu with wary eyes. It chirped prettily.

Iago answered the bird, not in human words but in a hoarse, whiny screeching sound. The little green bird chirped back to him, and they began a loud, incomprehensible conversation.

Abu covered his ears and watched. The green bird had little black eyes like chips of smoky quartz, and they glittered sadly. Iago- about twice the size of the green bird- had yellow eyes that sometimes lit up with a horrible helpless rage.

The birds had stopped screaming. Iago waddled back and forth on the windowsill, peering at the cage. He tugged on the bars with his beak, while the little bird inside hopped and flipped its wings- the wingtips brushed the cage bars on each side.

With a sudden, furious jerk of his head, Iago said: “Monkey! Pick this lock.”

Abu did not even think about saying no. He took care of the lock in about thirty seconds- a personal best. The little bird crawled out onto the windowsill. It chirped. Iago waved brusquely at it and turned away, and it flew off.

Iago heaved out an exhausted sigh.

Abu had once had to live in a tiny cage like that one, when he was about the size of that green bird. He’d tried to forget about it. He wondered if Iago had ever lived in a tiny cage, and decided not to ask.

Instead, he said it was Iago’s turn to be carried, and the parrot climbed onto Abu’s shoulders, with his clutching lizard feet and eerie lack of smell. They went home.