Jake and I were driving out of Alki Beach, with full stomachs from our Pho-mazing lunch at Saigon Boat Cafe. As we cruised down Alki Ave, parallel with the beach, I was looking at all the beach houses lined on the street, with their huge windows and beach-ified patios, and wondered what it might be like to live in one of those places. With smooth, milky thoughts of beach views from my living room window floating in my mind, I settled back into my seat and looked back at the---WHAT THE PHO IS THAT????
Suddenly, a seagull, stumbling around like a drunken frat boy, had begun crossing the yellow line in the middle of the road into our lane in front of us. And this was no ordinary seagull, either: its left wing was hanging bloody, barely attached, and lifeless down to the ground, as if it were some bag of garbage a teenage son drags down the driveway to the trash can. Jake swerved out of the way, barely missing it.
As we both tried to recover emotionally from this sudden and bizarre event, we noticed that it kept wandering into the lane, almost as if it was completely unafraid...almost as if it wanted to die.
Poor Cecil the Seagull could no longer cope with the physical and emotional trauma of no longer having his left wing and wanted a way out.
I'm pretty sure that the SUV behind us got him, actually.