Late one night, a burglar slipped quietly into a darkened house, moving with the confidence of someone who thought he was completely alone. He crept across the living room, flashlight slicing through the shadows, when a calm but chilling voice echoed from the darkness:

“Jesus is watching you.”

The burglar froze mid-step. His heart slammed against his ribs. He swung the flashlight wildly around the room, illuminating couches, picture frames, and curtains—but there was no one there. The silence returned, thick and unsettling.

Shaking his head, he muttered to himself. Get a grip. Old houses make noises. He took a breath and continued toward the back door.

Then the voice came again—louder, clearer, unmistakable.

“Jesus is watching you.”

This time, the burglar nearly dropped his flashlight. His pulse raced as he slowly turned toward the sound. The beam landed on a small cage tucked into the corner of the room.

Inside sat a parrot, calmly gripping its perch.

Relief washed over him. He let out a nervous laugh and whispered, “Was it you who said that?”

“Yes,” the parrot squawked cheerfully.

The burglar sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Trying to steady his nerves, he leaned closer to the cage. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“Clarence,” the parrot replied proudly.

The burglar smirked. “Clarence? What kind of people name a parrot Clarence?”

Without missing a beat, the parrot tilted its head and said,
“The same kind of people who name their Rottweiler Jesus.”

The burglar’s smile vanished.

Suddenly, a deep, slow growl rolled out from behind the sofa—low, powerful, and very real.

In the dim light, two massive eyes opened.

Clarence flapped his wings and added helpfully,
“I told you… Jesus is watching you.”