Monday, March 14, 2011

Beware the Mutant Birds

Afternoon Readers,

     The next time you're in a restaurant, when your waiter or waitress asks you if you need anything else, call up the most serious face you can muster, and reply, "No. Not unless you have a cage I can put my children in, while I eat." As the bleach-blond waitress stares back at you, mouth and eyes as wide as the plates she's carrying, you can't begin to imagine the satisfaction you've just purchased, in exchange for the dignity sacrificed by trying to dine with your children in public. Priceless. And after yesterday's less than pleasant lunch experience,  husband and I needed to blow off a little steam. So instead of heading home, we embarked on a sanity drive. We just didn't know we were going to run into seagulls.

     To be fair, we didn't actually "run into" any of them (I haven't been busying myself scrubbing gull parts, from the grill of my car), but when one resides in the Midwest and happens to observe a large flock of seabirds, contentedly eating Cheetos in a bargain store parking, a bit of investigating is in order. So Starsky and I decided to check it out. With the babies sleeping in the back, we crept closer to the situation and were soon caught-up in "gull rapture".
     Dipping and diving, the large, white birds gathered greedily around a small family who'd purchased the industrial-sized bag of cheese puffs, and was busy luring their new feathered friends ever closer; their jacketed, little boy, with his hood mercifully tied securely around what was surely a gull-poop target , was so enthralled with the spectacle, that every second, another bird was in danger of being pounced on and lovingly squeezed to death.
      We pulled over our little caravan, and at husband's urging, we each grabbed a baby, and headed towards the gulls. Because that's what smart people do. They pick up their only offspring, and haul them headfirst into an enormous group of foreign-looking birds.Timidly we approached, making sure that our own children had protective coverings, of their own, pulled over their heads.
      Stepping among them, I was immediately one with the birds; I was Dr. Doolittle wanting to sneak up to one of them and whisper,

"Noble bird, you are so beautiful. Won't you come and climb atop my shoulder so that I may commune with nature?"

It wasn't until my daughter and I were trapped in a "snow globe" of white feathers, that I heard husband:

"Hey Honey? Ever seen that movie, The Birds?"

"Uh huh."

"This is kinda like that."

Hold the phone...don't people die in that movie? Also, I seem to remember Tippi Hedren screaming like a banshee, while she tried to save her pupils from becoming bird feed.

"Honey?"

"For the love of all that's good and holy, get the kids back in the car, Dear."

     Maybe I over-reacted, and feathery death wasn't eminent, but what the heck was a flock of mutant, migrating seagulls doing here anyway? Those people, we left back there, could be dead for all I know. I'll check the news, later...

Until Next Time Readers!