As I walked outside to retrieve the morning paper and mail, I came across Irene, the town's one and only mail lady. Her poofy old lady fro was bobbing especially high today resulting in silent chuckles.
"Good morning!" she greeted as she handed me my mail. That's another odd thing about Sleep Town. The time is completely reversed as compared to that of the real world. While my actual body is resting at Ryan's house at ten at night, here I am outside during another beautiful spring morning in Sleep Town.
"Hey!" I replied enthusiastically. "How've you been?"
"Excellent!" she responded cheerily. "It's always a great day to be alive here in Sleep Town!"
"You speak the truth!" I said chuckling again at her hairdo.
Suddenly, I heard the most terrifying noise ever to grace human and non-human ears; the squawk of a petrifying, gruesome, man-eating bird. The Pelican.
My eyes swiftly darted in all directions to see where the horrifying noise was coming from. My fears were realized as I discovered to my horror that a single, white-hued pelican had decided to make a makeshift home out of the dingy roof of my house. I stood there frozen solid as if an iceberg had suddenly formed around me.
Now most people would say, "What kind of man is afraid of pelicans of all birds?" In which case I would most likely get very upset with you and curse you out for insulting my masculinity rather than just telling you the story.
The origin of my odd fear stretches back to when I was just four years old living near an abandoned harbor with my parents. One day, I had gotten angry with my parents and decided to run away during my sister's sixteenth birthday party to the lighthouse at the end of the break wall. After packing my suitcase with one day's worth of clothes and my most prized possession (my raggedy teddy bear with an ear missing; Paul), I headed out for the lighthouse.
Don't ask me why I decided to go to the dark, rundown lighthouse. Even after hearing of chilling ghost stories and rumors of the building being haunted, I set the lighthouse as my destination. Like any other four year-old, I as confident that I was brave and fearless and could do anything. More like any other four year-old, I soon discovered I wasn't as daring as I had anticipated. Upon entering the lighthouse, I immediately felt shivers up my spine. There was something eerie about an old abandoned lighthouse that just didn't set well with me. It was also felt to be only about thirty degrees inside…
Within a few minutes, I heard the squawk of the bird I would later come to be absolutely terrified of; a pelican. The pelican had made the lighthouse his home and unlike any respectable person, did not enjoy the generous company of others. Before a scream could escape my icy cold lips, the pelican had swooped down upon me and stole the only thing I had thought I loved at the time; Paul. Within that lightning-quick motion, the Pelican had plunged down to swallow Paul in one mammoth bite before I could think of how to stop it.
With the realization that my only friend had just been eaten by the colossal bird and was never going to be in my arms again, I did what any other four year-old would do in a situation like this; I cried. To say I only cried would be the understatement of the century. I'm sure my screams could be heard in Australia to be completely honest. As far as the volume of the tears themselves, I was also shocked that I didn't flood the lighthouse and drown both the pelican and myself.
About an hour later, my parents, mad with worry, finally discovered me in the corner bawling my eyes out. After frantically asking me what the problem was, they received an answer they will probably never forget as long as they live. "That big fat meenie birdie eated my Paul!" was my sobbing reply. Although I might add that some other certain words were also thrown in there making my parents ponder whether or not it would be wrong to laugh… So in other words, not only did I develop a silly fear of pelicans that day, but I also completely ruined my sister's party. What a great day that was…
