Julius the umbrella cockatoo is not a bird who hides his feelings. Whether he’s happy, curious, or annoyed, he makes sure everyone in the house knows exactly what’s on his mind. So, when a bag of Cheetos is opened and he isn’t immediately offered a share, Julius doesn’t just let it slide—he stages a full-scale protest.

It starts with the sound of the crinkling bag. Julius’s crest shoots up in excitement, his eyes brighten, and he tilts his head to get a better look. He knows that sound. That’s the good stuff. Perched high and mighty on his cage, he watches intently as his humans dare to dig into the cheesy treasure without acknowledging his rightful claim. The first chip crunch? That’s when the squawking begins. It’s not just any squawk—it’s a loud, pointed, “Excuse me?!” that echoes through the room. Julius leans forward, flapping his wings for emphasis, as if to say, “I’m sitting right here, in case you forgot.” When his demands go unmet, Julius shifts tactics. He climbs down to a closer perch, eyes locked on the bag. His beak opens, letting out a series of chirps, squawks, and whistles that sound suspiciously like a lecture. If Julius could talk, he’d be saying, “How dare you eat Cheetos in front of me without offering a single crumb?”

The humans, of course, try to explain. “Julius, these aren’t for birds,” they say, holding up the bag as evidence. But Julius isn’t buying it. He paces back and forth, ruffling his feathers in frustration, throwing an occasional side-eye that could rival any teenager’s. Eventually, realizing his demands won’t be met, Julius lets out a dramatic sigh and turns his back, his ultimate display of disapproval. It’s a calculated move—one last attempt to guilt his humans into sharing. When that doesn’t work, he sulks on his perch, grumbling under his breath in the way only a cockatoo can. But Julius is nothing if not clever. The next time the bag of Cheetos makes an appearance, he’ll be ready, watching for the slightest moment of distraction. Because while his humans may think they’ve won this round, Julius knows that patience—and a well-timed swoop—can turn the tide in his favor.

For now, though, he sits, feathers fluffed and crest low, the very picture of an unimpressed bird. And while his humans laugh at his antics, Julius silently plots his next move, convinced that the world’s greatest injustice is a bag of Cheetos not being shared with him.