Parrot head

So there I was, lifting heavy boxes into the back of a truck on one of New York's busiest streets when suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and find myself face to face with an eight foot Thing. It has the hind legs of a tiger, a rhinocerous torso, monkey arms and a parrot's head. It scares the living daylights out of me. I kind of scream but only manage a dry, whispery wimper.
"Excuse me," it says. "Can you tell me the way to the British Museum?"
"What?!" I cried, "The British Museum?! That's in London! This is New York! You're in the wrong city!"
The monstrous Thing threw back it's parroty head and giggled.
"Ah ha! Now I get it! I'm in the wrong city! How silly of me. Sorry to have bothered you, little pimp squeak human," it said. Then it winked at me, turned on it's heel and stalked off down the pavement.
It felt like the whole world had stopped to stare.
"What on earth was that about?" asked my boss, who is from Holland.
"It was in the wrong city - nothing to worry about," I said.
We finished loading the truck and set off down to the harbour where we had cheese sandwiches in a little cafe which is run by a girl called Julia. I'm in love with her. She has dark brown hair and a soft smile which lights up your day from the inside out.