R.I.P.

Yes, it´s what you think. The little guy has gone to the big tree in the sky. His condition worsened yesterday morning and things weren´t looking good when I came down for breakfast. By lunchtime, I went to wash my apple off in the sink when my sister looked over at me with a tear-streaked face.

¨Polly se murió.¨

Cue calling Lindsey a witch.

Apparently between my negative energy and my mom´s reprimands Polly died from a ¨full-body infection.¨ That is probably the most ambiguous term the vet could come up with. A full body infection? Psh, throw me a bone. So, after figuring out Polly passed, I of course, had to ask what they did with the body. The answer? Nothing. He´s still out back in a bucket wrapped up in a t shirt. I bet Blancos getting it for dinner.

I want to say I felt bad watching my sister cry, but my brother Pol and I for some warped reason, thought it was funny and went and laughed about it out of Prixi´s earshot. I really did hate that bird. Although, I´m not kidding when I say my family thinks I have some power that caused the bird´s death. This might take a while to heal over. F.