The SandGram

Now the Rest of the story…

Walking out of my room into the Corpus muggy August morning, I slowly recited my emergency procedures for the days flight. Crossing the grass, I looked up to see my blue Chevy S-10 and part of it was covered in seagull “poop.” As badly covered as my truck was, it was nothing compared to Larry’s sand-colored Toyota pickup truck. It was covered completely as if the birds just hovered over his truck and opened up all the poop gates. Cursing the birds, I rushed to the car wash to remove the evidence from that night’s attack before heading to the Squadron. Larry came in about an hour later, fuming about the birds attacking his pickup. No one really gave it much thought. The next day, the same thing happened except two other unlucky bastards were parked on either side of Larry’s truck and got hit also. It became almost a daily routine and no matter where in the parking lot that Larry parked, the next morning it was covered in seagull calling cards.

After two weeks of this, Larry was beside himself and placed a call to the animal control officer from the ready room. “Yes, I’m the one who was attacked by the skunk, and no I didn’t provoke him, he just went nuts….” There was a long pause. “No, I don’t have anything against seagulls except they crap on my truck.” Pause, “I want to know what you are going to do about these birds…” pause… “Yes I want you to kill them all…” pause… “What do you mean they are protected???” This conversation, overheard by all the students in the ready room, brought lots of snickers as they sipped their coffee. Adam said, “You know, Larry, maybe it’s the color of your truck.” Larry turned around and said, “What did you say? Color? Why do you think it’s the color?” Adam looked around and with a wave of his arm across the room replied, “Well no one else here has a tan-colored vehicle, so that must be it.” Everyone started nodding in agreement; of course, the discussion of how birds could tell the difference in color AT NIGHT never came up. As Larry left, he was heard mumbling about how he might have to trade in his truck for another color.

That night at 1130 pm, I came around the corner of the building with a load of clothes I had just laundered. Across the night came the loud clear imitation of a seagull, “Hawwwwrrrrrrrrrkkkkk, Haaaawwwwwwrrrrrrk” and there in the parking lot next to Larry’s truck was someone clapping his hands. Walking to where I could get a better view, I saw that he had spread bread all over the hood, roof, and bed of the truck; arousing the birds by his calling. They started landing on the truck to eat the bread. Me, with my arms loaded with clothes, waited by the stairwell for the mystery man to walk by. Adam almost ran me over as he turned to climb the outside stairwell. The surprised look on his face gave it away. “Taco, you can’t tell a soul about this!!! I mean it, no one!!” I just laughed and said, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, but don’t you think every night is over doing it a bit?” Adam, just chuckled and replied, “I wanted to do it a couple more times before he trades it in. The sucker truly believes it’s because of the color of his truck. I’m just pissed that he turned us in so I’m having a little fun with the turd.” The two walked up the steps for a beer. Now, as Paul Harvey says, “You know the rest of the Story.”

Tags: The SandGram v1.0