Hello, my name is Stu. Today my gripe is with one-legged sea gulls or all sea gulls. I’m sitting at this wonderful outdoor bar at Boca Chica nestled in the mangrove swamps. I’m chowing down a grouper sandwich, fries, onion rings and a pitcher of cold beer. I see this poor pathetic one-legged gull resting precariously on a piling. I watched him for quite awhile wobbling this way and that way. Sometimes the fools pull up one of their legs. Don’t know why? I guess they are resting one?
I’ve always been annoyed by these flying garbage rats. Screeching all the time and stalking you wherever you go with food. But this little guy touched my heart. He was injured. I was surprised he didn’t succumb to ‘survival of the fittest’. So, like an old softy I tossed him a french fry. He scarfed it down in no time. Next, I toss him a big onion ring. He almost fell off his perch for that one. A few more fries, pieces of bread and just a corner of my fried grouper.
I kinda felt like I was saving the world. This poor guy was certainly at a disadvantage. He was looking real hard at my grouper sandwich but that’s where I drew the line. He let out a high pitched squeal and flew off his post. I’m thinking he had enough fries and was going to take a dip in the brackish water.
It happened quick as a tail feather swishing by. Plop, plop, drizzle. A huge white messy glob of you know what hit my left shoulder and slid ever so slowly down my gray Tommy Bahama T-shirt. Stink! I guess that has cured me from feeling sorry for those nasty no-good flying rats. I couldn’t finish the rest of my fried grouper sandwich.
I’ve always been annoyed by these flying garbage rats. Screeching all the time and stalking you wherever you go with food. But this little guy touched my heart. He was injured. I was surprised he didn’t succumb to ‘survival of the fittest’. So, like an old softy I tossed him a french fry. He scarfed it down in no time. Next, I toss him a big onion ring. He almost fell off his perch for that one. A few more fries, pieces of bread and just a corner of my fried grouper.
I kinda felt like I was saving the world. This poor guy was certainly at a disadvantage. He was looking real hard at my grouper sandwich but that’s where I drew the line. He let out a high pitched squeal and flew off his post. I’m thinking he had enough fries and was going to take a dip in the brackish water.
It happened quick as a tail feather swishing by. Plop, plop, drizzle. A huge white messy glob of you know what hit my left shoulder and slid ever so slowly down my gray Tommy Bahama T-shirt. Stink! I guess that has cured me from feeling sorry for those nasty no-good flying rats. I couldn’t finish the rest of my fried grouper sandwich.
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