Seagulls Of St. Andrews
St. Andrews wouldn’t be the same without seagulls. But who are these birds when they’re not screeching in the street or shitting in your hair? We sent a reporter we don’t like to find out…
“I love trash. Especially warm trash. I love the way it smells, I love the way it looks, I love the way it makes me feel. I caught Larry in my trash pile yesterday; he was eating my 30 day old chip. Larry’s wife made a search party for him-- Ha! Fools! He is now trash, my sweet warm trash.”
“What do they expect me to do when they walk out of Costa’s with a warm croissant in hand? N O T eat it? I mean, the target is especially easy when it’s big, and on wheels, and the hands simply don’t have the strength to hold onto their prey (they do have the disadvantage of being incredible screechy once attacked, though)! To be quite honest with you, I don’t understand why the humans chase me afterwards. It’s the rules of the game: you win, you win, you know? And so what if I always win and they always lose? They’re the ones who showed up here in the first place!”
EDITOR’S NOTE: We were prepared to publish an interview with another of our flighty fellows named Gulliver. Unfortunately, Gulliver passed away early this morning. We are thus publishing his obituary:
GULLIVER. BORN 2008, PASSED 2018. MAY HE REST IN PEACE.
It was early morning, the rain dripping over our beloved towne. Gulliver began his day as always, a lumbering journey over the Olde Course. He flew high and swift, but, unfortunately, the Golfe Balle was higher and swifter. In one, fatal, horrible blow, Gulliver tumbled from the heavens to the sandie shore below.
A memorial service will be held in his honour near the large pile of discarded fries beside the Chip shoppe near Albany Park, whence we will once again mourn the losse of one of our brethren, conceived, borne, and passed, as he was, in Flighte.
Written by Martin Caforio & Sara Weissel