You’re my buddy, you understand that? And a guy like me, he looks out for his buddies. So those five seagulls that have been bothering you, well, let’s just say I’ve got this funny feeling they aren’t gonna be a problem anymore.
1. The seagull that got territorial about your garbage bin
I didn’t like that prick seagull always screeching and flapping his wings at you just for taking out your trash. Something about the cocky little smirk on his beak while he strutted across the lid like he owned the place, his arrogant demeanor—that really rubbed me the wrong way. So as your friend, I decided to take out some trash myself. I put a couple french fries in the trunk of my car, the kind a seagull can’t say no to, and me and him, we took a long drive to a nice, quiet place I go when I need to have a chat without any interruptions. I think Mr. Seagull’s gonna have a bit of a hard hard time getting back to your garbage bin now. Those porous bones he evolved, turns out they have their downsides. But don’t worry about him. Where he’s hanging out these days, he’s got all the garbage he could ever want.
2. The seagull that figured out how to shit while flying such that the momentum of the shit would carry it into your bedroom window screen
Listen, a seagull takes a shit on somebody’s car, I can accept that. Birds shit. That’s life. But a seagull does a bombing run right onto somebody’s window screen—my buddy’s bedroom window screen—and then repaints it every time it gets cleaned off? That bird’s gotta go. I took the liberty of posting up on your roof with a tennis racket in case that good-for-nothing seagull tried it again, and what do you know, it looks like I’ve still got my serve. Your days of spot-buffing that screen with a wet paper towel are over, my friend. It’s dealt with.
3. The seagull that kept bringing your wife mustard packets
She’s a rock-solid woman, that missus of yours. What you two have, no seagull’s ever coming between that. Don’t matter how many condiment packets he leaves tucked under her Kia’s windshield wipers. But the very idea that some French’s-slinging shorebird thinks he can butt in on my favorite guy’s happy home, I take exception to that. I feel it behooves me to respond. So I called up a couple of my cousins from Philly to surprise our little Romeo on his last visit, and those guys, well, they got pretty creative with that mustard packet. Did him up like one of their Philly pretzels, real authentic. I felt my sinuses open up just watching it. Anyway, I’d say that was the last mustard packet this particular seagull will ever go bringing around here. He gets the picture. It’s crystal.
4. The 4 a.m. seagull
To tell you the truth, I don’t particularly have anything against seagulls. Honest, I don’t. Any bird starts making a racket outside my friend’s house before it’s even light out, I’m giving my brass knuckles a good feather dusting whether it’s a chickadee or a cassowary. Thing is though, so far it’s just been a pain-in-the-ass seagull who’s been dumb enough to try that. I don’t think he’ll be in a hurry to try it again.
5. The seagull that sounded just enough like your cat that you were obligated to get up and check on her whenever you heard it
Here’s a little secret I’ve learned: you take a seagull that’s causing problems, you toss him in a tumble dryer on low, and 30 minutes later, bam, that seagull doesn’t cause problems anymore. Works like magic. And once he’s done coughing up dryer lint, this seagull, he gets the word out. About who I am. About who my friends are. About what happens when seagulls cause problems for me and my friends. And would you believe it, eventually, these little seagull problems stop happening in the first place. An ounce-of-prevention type thing. But hey, if it turns out I wasn’t thorough enough, you just let me know. I’ve got a T-shirt cannon I’m just dying to test my aim with.
