America will kill itself, William said to Dillon.

Dillon, an aging Quaker parrot also known as a monk parakeet, flew in William’s window a few months earlier and decided to stay.

The bird whistled the first six notes of the National Anthem.

With William’s therapist retiring, he was on his own. She referred him to another doctor but he politely demurred and now had to talk to Dillon to get over the rough spots, to reassure himself he was doing everything he could to help himself and others make it through the COVID-19 pandemic.

William could only do so much.

At least Dillon listened and responded when he felt like it.

’Murica, Dillon said.

We can increase our odds of staying healthy, William said. Or increase our odds of getting sick. No guarantees attached to either course.  

Dead men tell no tales, Dillon said.

You got that right, William said.

Live for today, Dillon said.

Shooting the nurse in the neck made perfect sense, William said. Maybe he’ll learn not to behave recklessly in the future and put others at risk. I mean, the man is a nurse.

Women and children first, Dillon said.

The Reverend gets it next, William said. Right in the butt.

Butthead, Dillon said.

I feel pretty good, William said.

Feeling all right, Dillon said.

William’s stomach growled.

It’s getting late, you hungry?

Dillon wants a large pizza.

Yeah, I’m starved, William said.

Gina and Sal looked up when the bell above the pizza parlor door rang. Holding the door open, William stood outside beneath the streetlight.

Is it all right if I order from here?

Sure, cuz, Sal said.

Gina shot Sal a look as bad as moldy capicola and turned to face William with a smile.

Of course, what would you like?

Large plain pie, please, William said.

Gina threw him a bigger smile.

No toppings, hon?

William froze.

Looking around to see what enlarged the man in the black mask’s eyes to the size of baby eggplant slices, Gina turned.

Sal tensed, ready to fight.

Now Gina froze.

Sal, trying to follow the action looked at the wall behind Gina that took William by surprise and held his gaze.

Sal stiffened.

William rubbed his eyes.

The brightly-lit image filled the rear wall behind the counter. Life-sized, the figure stood five-feet six inches tall with head bowed and shoulders sloped. The divine female likeness cast a soft pale blue shadow against the yellow grease-specked wall. With downcast eyes, the revered appearance presented a stunning golden presence, a holy form looking just like all the Italian religious paintings that captured the same depiction. With her arms by her sides and her palms turned up, the Blessed Mother seemed about to pick up a pizza.

Gina automatically crossed herself.

William backed out of the doorway, leaving the door wide open as he turned and moved fast up the street.

Sal slapped himself in the forehead.

Mama mia, he said.