I originally got a parrot because an old black guy with parrots told me it would help me pick up chicks. And I don't mean the poultry kind. Picked out a parrot at this old black guy's bird store here in Seattle that was big, blue, and loud. And a princess. The loudness I didn't learn about until it was too late. But that was the least of my problems. First of all, turns out I didn't actually pick out the parrot. The parrot picked me. Not only was the parrot big, blue, and loud. And a princess. The parrot was a witch. Not a figurative or allegorical witch. A literal witch. A witch of the spell casting kind. The abracadabra kind. A witch with a coffee addiction. Once I entered the bird store the parrot cast a spell. The kind of spell that caused me to open my wallet for a big, blue, loud witch. The kind of witch that didn't abide with girlfriends. The kind of witch that didn't abide with not getting her way. The kind of witch that turned out to be my guardian angel and a proverbial albatross around my neck at the same time. A witch named Princess Tara.
Princess Tara was on a mission to save the world from a diabolically evil shapeshifting cannibal warlord and his zombie minions. She needed the help of a couple of history professors to discover the ancient spells and magic to defeat these ghouls. Me and my colleague and good friend Mike. All I wanted to do was put my failing academic career behind me and roast coffee. Oh, and snag a date with a cute barista I knew. But before Princess Tara could save the world, she needed me to save her from a dumpy little bird store she was stuck in. Too late I remembered the old Chinese proverb, save a life, and you're responsible for that life forever.
Book Two of The Princess Tara Chronicles: The Princess Witch; Or, It Isn't As Easy To Go Crazy As You Might Think, coming this summer. Stay Tuned! And Princess Tara thanks you for your support.