The Case of the Missing Cockatiel (Psych, Lassiter/Shawn)

When he was a child, his father had taken him to an amusement park. Not any specific amusement park, just an amusement park, any of the ones scattered around Santa Barbara. He’d begged for nearly two months to go and finally his father had agreed. It was the first and last time they’d gone, though Shawn had been to others since. Just not with his father, and not that same one.

According to his father, amusement parks were a waste of both time and money. To Shawn, they embodied everything a child could possibly find fun, all rolled into one big complex. He’d been so excited that he’d barely slept the night before. It had been fun, for the first five minutes. It probably would have been more fun if he’d gone with anyone other than his dad.

They bought nothing beyond the price of admission and a hot dog each. They rode two rides, each of which had involved nearly ten minutes of cajoling. His father had been adamant against him going on the really big roller coasters, but he’d talked his father into letting him ride the Tilt-a-Whirl and a wooden roller coaster that stayed close to the ground. They visited none of the shops and spent most of their time going from show to show mostly park-run attractions that featured employees in stereotypical country garb singing country songs older than his father. Shawn was always the youngest person in the audience.

He’d had a horrible time, but that was generally true of any place he went with his father. Shawn had never been back to that amusement park since. In fact, he tried to avoid the whole neighborhood entirely unless he was merely passing through, normally in Gus’s car. He’d turned down dates because they lived too close to the park. The reason he avoided the park, beyond the horrible memories of his father, was a young woman, about 5’8″, with curly brown hair and eyes that smiled at his every word.