The Power of Petey Compels You!
Posted on February 9, 2006 Posted by John Scalzi 9 Comments
Aaaaiiee! It’s Petey, the wrathful seven-foot cockatoo! Bow down before his mighty beak!
(This picture makes a lot more sense if you read the comment thread here.)
Naturally, the music to go along with this picture would have to be from Hatebeak, the only death metal group in history fronted by a parrot. Enjoy the dulcet tones of “God of the Empty Nest” while you cower before Petey!
Naturally, I encourage you to testify about your own encounters with Petey, Unholy Cockatoo of Retribution! Because don’t we all have a Petey story? Sure we do. For example, I met Petey on under the piers of San Pedro! His horrible unblinking gaze cured me of smack and male prostitution! Well, mostly. Anyway, I’m sure I’m not the only one here who can speak of an encounter with Petey the Great and Terrible.
(Thanks to Gabe for the original “artwork”)
Well mine was quick and dirty. Yours really captured the essence of Petey. And, well, Hatebeak is definitely the theme music of choice for Petey.
When I first encountered Petey I was smoking puddles of Glass mixed with Drano crystals. He appeared to me in a mold pattern of a three week old tortilla and told me that I was to begin spreading the word as soon as I finished the last hit on that pipe. I took my first Petey communion and ate the tortilla.
Since then I’ve start numerous Petey Celebrity Resorts and can say without a doubt that Vincent Gallo always wants to party but never wants to buy.
I remember it like it was yesterday (it was, actually, the day before yesterday – but who’s counting). I was snorting coke out of this chick’s ass-crack (and by chick I mean baby chicken) when a shadow passed over me. As I looked up, I found I was staring into the craw of a giant cockatoo. My whole body went numb (probably from all that coke) and my jaw went slack.
He hooked my lower lip with his talon and dropped what appeared to be a food pellet into my mouth. As the pellet dissolved on my tongue everything started to glow with intense colors – like turning the color up all the way on your TV.
Suddenly the birds eyes turned black as coal and his plumage began to shimmer. I heard a high-pitched squawk inside my head followed by the name Petey. I fell to my knees and kissed his sharp talons.
Then he pooped on my head. But hey, birds will be birds…
I met Petey in college. They told me that the NecroCacatuaAlbaCom was a myth, but I found a copy in an old occult bookstore.
With tremebling hands I held the sacrificial suet and spoke the words to rend this world asunder. Strange howling noises tugged at my sanity as my world reeled and I felt something shift beneath the reality that we knew. Then, with a gutteral tear, the veil had been lifted and there stood Petey in all his horribly glory. Oh how I wept, to gaze upon the truth of the universe!! He fixed his roving, malevolent eye upon me and demanded crackers. Crackers!
Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!! Soon the world will fall to my new lord and master and I shall reap the benefits!! Again I say, bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!
I first met Petey bar hopping in Manhattan. We went to this dive on 23rd and started playing pool with these two miniskirted heavy metal chicks.
They cleaned me out of $100 at pool, got me drunk on tequila, and left me to wake up hung over in the back alley with a note attached to my jacket:
“Jim, Girls and I jumped a Lear to Bahamas. Will catch up with you later. Luv, P”
And then the NYPD mistook me for a homeless person and I spent the day at Rikers Island straigtening the situation out.
I miss that bird.
Petey was in my old band, Stacey/DC.
The Boston Globe, on Stacey/DC:
“The best thing that can be said for Ms. Monponsett’s singing is that when she sings, her guitar playing is no longer the weak link in the band.”
My run in with destiny happened at the Rosco Lanes, over on 38th, after an afternoon of one-hitters and MGB. I was contemplating converting my blue swirley bowling ball into either a lamp or a bong (MGB brings out the DIY in me) when I noticed the guy in next lane was throwing strikes. Lots of them. Bobbing to the ball return I saw on his shirt that his name was Petey and gave him a head nod. His giant red eyes took me in in an instant and he said “Go with the lamp, the plastic will end up harshing you out.” The rest of the day we rolled for Tostados, and I bought them all because Petey throws strikes. Lots of them.
To: James Catt, Headquarters
From: Matt Smythe, Eradication Team Lead
Re: The Cockatoo Matter
Mission Description: Limited success was achieved in the attempt to apprehend Demonic Apparition A235-V (aka “The Cockatoo”). Said Apparition demonstrated a remarkable resistance to proton weapons and capture beams while possessing an uncanny ability to intimidate Team Members into submission. Reduced Team strength contributed to high Total Problems Encountered ratio. However, proper use of Unholy Bird Feed allowed Team to initiate a Withdraw without further damage.
Recommendations: A full refund to customers and recompense for damages (Note: Significant ectoplasmic excretions will require Cosmic Cleaner 412). Arrangements have been made for debriefing and, to be frank, it has been a pleasure working with you.
Yours,
Matt
I’ve never encountered Petey in the form described here, but I’ve met him on his days off. Then he hides his malevolence behind a scream that literally shatters glass when not attempting to take out chunks of flesh from the unwary. Gotta love those cockatoos.
A few years back I was really into spiritual transcendence–you know, freeing myself from this fleshy (if handsome) prison. I had fasted for, oh, four or five weeks when I felt my body slipping from the physical plane. I soared like a bird through the astral clouds, but doing so caught His attention. Big mistake. Long story short, I narrowly avoided his talons, his beak, his razor-sharp feathers, the alien gaze of his avian ovoid ocular orbs; slammed back into my body; and hustled to the nearest chicken shack until I was too full to worry about the dread Petey’s ravages. Moral of the story, kids, is stolen from this SAT analogy: living on a planet with an atmosphere is to shielding yourself from harmful cosmic rays as grounding yourself on the physical plane is to not having to worry about being consumed in a Bosch-like hellscape.
Speaking of “Bosch-like hellscape”, which is what I spoke aloud the second I saw that horrifying picture, there exists this site with whom I have no financial connection.