The "special" hell.

That's where I'm going, along with those people who talk at the theater and child molesters and I'll tell you why...

We parked near the garden center at Walmart and walked in the doors. Just inside the door there lay a beautiful, dazed little bird on its back. It had apparently slammed into the sliding door and it looked like its life was slowly ebbing away.

My daughter gasped loudly and said, 'There's a bird on the floor!" and two sales associates rushed over to see - each women; each one's heart breaking just a little to see this sad little bird die from a wind gust it couldn't handle.

It's tail moved slowly back and forth and its eyes were wide open in a kind of glazed astonishment. My daughter and I began to walk away, not wanting to witness its final moments.

As we made our way into the main store, I blurted out, "'E's not dead, 'E's PINING."

My daughter burst out with a guffaw that echoed around the huge garden area and then immediately clamped both hands over her mouth as if it was disrespectful.

I looked at her in horror.

"Oh now I'm definitely going to hell."

She replied, "We're both going anyway Mom. We read Harry Potter."

"Oh yeah."

And then we carried on with the rest of the dead parrot skit :)