So picture this a regular degular house, folks just vibin’, when BOOM. Enter Blue. Not just your average parrot nah, this dude is a macaw menace, a literal feathered tornado with a PhD in trolling. Drippy feathers? Check. Main character energy? Triple check. Blue don’t just live in our house he runs it. We just pay rent. You’d think with colors like his sky blue, sunshine yellow, peacock teal he’d be chillin’, perched like a decorative Instagram bird. But no. My guy is the bird version of Loki with a Red Bull addiction.

Every morning, Blue’s on demon time. Instead of chirping sweet birdie tunes like a Disney princess sidekick, this fool decides to cosplay as our alarm clock and does it too well. And just when you're starting to wake up, thinking it's a regular morning? He hits you with: “Beep beep, time to eat your feet!” Bro, WHAT?! Who taught him that? We don’t even know anymore. We just accepted it. Day one, we were shook. Day seven, we’re like, “Aight, thanks Blue, appreciate the trauma.”

Now peep this chaos. One afternoon, one of us left out a pen. But not just a pen, nah — it was that limited edition, ultra-rare, titanium-core, only-3-in-the-world-type-of-multitoolguy-kind of pen. Big flex. Big mistake. Blue pulls up, gives it a lil side-eye like, “bet.” Next thing we know, dude’s out here doing modern art on the living room wall like he’s Banksy’s bird cousin. We walk in and it’s just... BLACK. AND. BLUE. Everywhere. Looks like Picasso had a caffeine meltdown. We were mad… but like… kinda impressed?? Man’s got vision.

Dinner time? It’s a heist movie. We sit down, forks up, mouths open — and WHOOSH. Blue swoops in like a feathered ninja with sticky claws and no mercy. Man grabs food off your fork mid-air, and then just flies away laughing like: “Can’t catch me, I’m the snack bandit!” He got sauce dripping from his beak like he just robbed a Taco Bell and didn’t wipe his face. Everyone’s screaming, someone’s crying, one of us just gave up and fed him on purpose like a sacrifice to the bird gods.

And the mimicry? Bro… This bird don’t just copy sounds — he steals identities. The Zippo click? Flawless. The oven ping? Grammy-worthy. But his real masterpiece? Masghax’s voice.He once called a Gojek driver and placed a whole order. IN. MASGHAX’S. VOICE. The driver pulled up like:

“Bang Masghax mana ya?”

And we just standing there like:

“He ain’t here, but this bird will sign your receipt.”

We’re still paying for that ayam geprek.

Neighborhood status? Legendary. Everyone knows Blue. People stop by like it’s a zoo exhibit. “Did he prank anyone today?” “Did he start a kitchen fire yet?” “Can he do the SpongeBob laugh again?” We should honestly be charging tickets. Blue’s living rent-free in everyone’s group chat.

Endgame? Look, Blue may be a tiny feathered goblin with zero chill and the moral compass of a chaotic neutral bard, but he’s our goblin. Life with him is 30% panic, 70% laughter, and 100% “what did he do now?” He’s not just a bird. He’s a lifestyle. A movement. A full-blown reality show with wings. And that, ladies and gents, is the legend of Blue the Macaw the clown prince of the crib, the troll of the sky, the feathered menace who turned our lives into a comedy special.