Get Well Soon, Batman

The scene opens to a whiteboard in an empty classroom with this one question scribbled on it, "What happened to Alanna?"  A television is on in the corner, news reporters droning on about the current situation.

Next are choppy scenes with Batman fighting Doomsday, and Batman is not doing too well.  There is only one thing I can do, and that is to man this suit similar to what Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) wears in Alien.  Even though Doomsday seems impervious to harm, I for some reason think that this machine will make all the difference (possibly because Batman designed the machine and it knows Doomsday's one weakness?).  The machine punches(?) with Flash-like capabilities, except the ends of the arms are sharp, needle-like protrusions.  Regardless, punching/poking seems to be working, and I distract Doomsday long enough for the injured, bloody Batman to get away to safety with the help of other heroes.  Umm... I did not think this all the way through.  Who is going to distract him so I can get away?  No one?  That's cool.  I'll be fine.
So Doomsday has invaded my personal space and is too close for me to punch (not even the one-inch punch from Kill Bill can work), and so I have to figure out a way to vibrate the whole suit so that I can escape Doomsday's grasp.  Luckily, Batman thought about that, and I find the button to escape.  But I can only run so far in the damaged suit before it gives way and collapses on top of me when I stumble over some rubble and debris.

I regain consciousness with a paramedic hovering over me as some other people are removing debris from around me.  I'm only semi-conscious as the paramedic is telling me that I have lost approximately 20% of my blood.  He further assesses me and is pretty sure I have a punctured and/or collapsed lung filling with blood.  As I lay there struggling to breathe and coughing blood, I try to laugh before I realize that hurts because all I can think of is the quote from Spinal Tap (He choked on someone else's vomit; There is really no way to dust for vomit). 
The paramedic then asks the dumbest question I have ever heard, "Can you hear me?  Good.  Is there anything you need?  Anything I can get for you?"
I struggle to say, "A hospital would be nice?"
So then he says, "Alright, let's go," and attempts to make me walk to the hospital with my arm up around his shoulder.  If I didn't have a lung filling with blood, I would have asked him about a gurney or his general incompetence, but we took about ten steps before his phone rang, he squealed, "Oh, I have to take this!  Sit down for a minute," and helped me sit on the curb.  When he wasn't looking, I stole an oxygen mask because he's an idiot and I needed it.
So after he finishes the important phone call (not about getting me to the hospital any faster, btw), he realizes I can't walk because I'm quite possibly dying and my legs aren't really functional after being crushed by stuff.  No way.  So he starts carrying me to the hospital that I hope is close.
At this point, even though I don't want to, I start to drift out of consciousness again. No! Stay awake, Alanna!  This paramedic is not capable!  Don't make it easy for him to kill you! What if he is working for the Joker/Doomsday?!
Just to check, I wearily mumble, "I helped save Batman."
"What?  No you didn't.  You must have lost more blood than I thought.  Batman is dead."
"...What?..."
"Yeah, he's been dead for a while, so he wasn't here today.  And I'm pretty sure Doomsday killed Robin today."
What? No, but I saw Batman fight Doomsday.  I know he is alive.  And I know Robin (or was it Nightwing) pulled Batman to safety after my distraction. 
Regardless, the ridiculous paramedic begins rambling on about Batman's death and all of these random, nonsensical tedious details and subtleties that bore me into unconsciousness.

I am then vaguely aware of voices talking around me.  I lie there as long as I can, with my eyes closed, to take in as much information as I can. 
J is telling people where to go, what to do, what to stop doing. 
Rachel is trying her hardest not to be my nurse. 
Patrick and Tim are audibly upset, "If we hadn't been at work, WE  could have fought like superheroes!"
Dustin is talking to reporters, giving witty responses to their answers (almost all of them contained puns).
There are more people, but voices are blurring, and I can't really focus at the moment.  I decide to go back to sleep.

I hear voices again, and I have the strength to open my eyes this time.  I see that I am pretty much immobilized due to my injuries, but I don't feel like moving anyway, so that's not really an issue.  Everyone seems pretty excited that I am finally awake, I'm not sure how long I have been out of it.
J is trying to ask how I feel.
Rachel takes my hand and is trying to inconspicuously take my pulse due to the sudden uproar.
Patrick and Tim are trying to ask me why I didn't tell them to come so they could help fight.
Dustin is telling me how great of a story this is going to be.
Amy is telling me how no one believed her when she told everyone they should be concerned about me and go to the hospital.  They thought it was an elaborate hoax until she turned on the television and the news was replaying footage of me fighting Doomsday.

When I recap what happened to me, I realize that they also do not believe that Batman is alive.  He was killed in some blah blah blah, I can't pay attention because I still can't believe that I didn't save Batman.

As everyone continues talking, I look over to the table beside me with the flowers, cards, etc.  In particular a small, handwritten card off to the side catches my eye.  As I squint, I read the words,

"From one hero to another:

Sometimes it is best to lie low and heal,
Your thunder is something I wouldn't want to steal.

Get well soon, my friend!"

That's weird.  Why are certain letters slightly emphasized.  Was their pen running out?  Oh, wait...
Batman IS  alive!  I knew it!!!

Everyone becomes slightly concerned as my pulse increases for what appears to be no reason.  I cannot speak because my mind is reeling.  My joy is ineffable.  My confusion is thorough.

I know something that the general public does not.  I know a BIG secret.  How did no one else get the subtleties of the card?  Why does Batman want everyone to think he is de--OMG, BATMAN SENT ME A GET WELL SOON CARD!!!

I Shall Name Him Vengenance, and He Shall Be Mine

This is the floor plan and front view of the Barn.

It's not an exact floor plan, but it will serve the intended purpose

This is the story that makes the previous picture relevant.

After I finished tutoring Thundra, we walked downstairs together.  I had a comic book in my car for her, and I was going to fetch it for her before she left for the day.  She walked in front of me, and pushed the door open, letting in the blinding sunlight.  Except a weird shadow fell across my face.  What in the world...is that what I think it is?  What is that at the top of the door frame?  Was something there earlier this morning when I came in the barn?  I don't think so.  Surely Thundra would have noticed it when she arrived after I did...

Hey, Thundra, do you see what I see?
What are you talking about? Do I see what?

I stand still, lurking in the shadows inside the barn.  Thundra steps out into the sunlight before she turns around.  And that's when she screams, because it is exactly what I think it is.

What her expression and shrill exclamation implied

In her surprise, she slams the door shut, leaving me with this visual as the bat is squished in the door jam before falling somewhere near my feet on the floor.

Glad I don't have a phobia of the dark, of bats, or of being alone in the dark with bats.

I call out to Thundra, afraid to move because I don't want to step on the baby bat and further injure it, "Thanks."  She replies from the other side of the door, "Oh, sorry, Alanna."  She slowly opens the door, and light spills in over me and our tiny friend.

As I stand there, looking at the poor little thing, I just start to talk to it.  "I'm sorry she just slammed you in the door.  That wasn't very nice.  I hope you're okay.  Why are you even out during the daytime?  Do you have rabies?  Please don't fly near me.  I would rather not have an exchange of anything with you if that's okay."

Thundra is flabbergasted by my reaction, and all I can think is that this poor bat reminds me of the fallen hero, T-Petey.  But I can't explain that to Thundra at the moment because our little friend is scurrying across the floor.  I'm pretty sure Thundra injured some part of his body when she slammed him into the door frame, but he can still move, even though he can't fly.

So I stay inside, keeping an eye on the bat, whom I have now named Vengeance, because (1) Batman reference and (2) Nemo reference, as Thundra calls her parents to no avail.  We finally get ahold of her younger sister, but she won't do anything, so telling her just means she won't come to the barn for me to tutor her.
Vengeance makes his way across the floor to the door frame of the bathroom, and begins to make his ascent (I assume so he can be vigilant).  Meanwhile, Thundra is still attempting to communicate the crisis to her parents.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes, her dad drives nearby, and she waves to flag him down.

Bob:  What are you girls doing outside?
Thundra:  Dad! There's a bat in the barn! You have to do something about it!
Bob:  What?  What are you talking about?
Thundra:  There is a bat.  In the gym.  Terrorizing everyone with its rabies.
Bob:  Thundra, I am sure that it is just a bird.  You just think it was a bat.
Thundra:  Alanna, show him the picture or video you took.  Show him we aren't making this up.

Vengeance!

Bob:  Well I'll be.  It is a bat.
Alanna:  I would have dealt with it, but I don't have gloves or close-toed shoes, so I opted to not touch it.

So Bob gets the necessary tools to come and rid the barn of Vengeance.  As we are waiting for Bob to return, I see Thundra's younger sister walking the half mile from their house to the barn.  Why is she walking in the heat of the day?  Why didn't she just call Thundra to come get her?  Whatever.
So Bob comes back, sees his youngest daughter now running towards us, and tells Thundra, "Go and pick up your sister so she doesn't have to walk in this heat."
Thundra:  I think she wants to walk.  And she's running, so by the time I got into my car, she would be here.
Bob:  Okay.  Whatever.

Bob goes inside to find Vengeance, but he isn't where I last saw him.  This makes Thundra *very* nervous, and she starts looking everywhere, because she is pretty sure he is at a high vantage point simply so he can swoop down and scar her for life as one of his final acts.

Actually, he is on the floor, in the corner, by the bathroom door.  Bob takes a second to look at him and verify that we still aren't making this up before he battles with Vengeance.


Finally, Thundra can leave the Barn knowing that I am safe.  As she is getting in her car, her sister comes up to us, panting and out of breath.

Alanna:  Did you have fun running?
No!  You know how much I hate running!!  Why would you ask me that?
Alanna:  It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Thundra:  Wait, so why were you running?
Because I was being chased and attacked by those birds that make their nests on the ground!  Apparently I walked too close to one of their nests and they kept dive bombing me.  I had to run so they wouldn't peck me.

Visual Approximation based on her story

Then as she was running across the cattle guard, a mouse that was trapped beneath the cattle guard kept jumping up, trying to get out and regain its freedom.

Thundra:  That explains why you were flailing while you were running.  And why you screamed at the cattle guard.
You think I do things like that for fun?  Seriously, Thundra, that's ridiculous.

So after Bob disposes of Vengeance's body and her sister heads upstairs to work, I ask Thundra why she stayed at the Barn with me instead of leaving, and she said, "Because it's going to make a great story."
Well said, Thundra, well said.

Prologue

Driving. That's what I was doing when I was asked a seemingly simple question.  Driving home from the World Series with one of my favorite people when she asked me a question that I'm sure almost everyone has been asked, but very few have the same answer to. Some people find this question relatively easy to answer due to the many milestones in their life; others find this question difficult due to the many milestones in their life.  The same can be said of those with few milestones or those with a lesser optimistic attitude, but I digress.

As we were driving down the desolate stretch of I-35, Amber asked me, "Alanna, what was your best day ever?  What is the one best day that you've ever had?"

And my mind started to wander...



Next Chapter:  Herpes

Herpes (Simplex) II

To truly enjoy this story, please refer to Herpes (Simplex) 1 before reading HSV2 (Also take note that when I do not use names in a story, you should not mention names in the comments).

Not even a month after the first incident, I am hanging out with friends at a New Year's Eve party.  Most of the group has split into a few groups (men discussing theology and philosophy, women playing games with children and painting nails, and then there are a few of us sitting around the campfire, most notably M, Z, and myself).


While sitting around the campfire, M is petting one of the dogs, and it turns around to lick M's face.  As the dog does this, I whisper, herpes, and he pushes the dog away, makes a disgusted sound, and simultaneously makes a pained face.  Everyone turns to stare at M and ask what caused him to have that reaction.  I shrug my shoulders as I tell everyone that "I have no idea.  He just kind of got spooked by something..."  Z starts laughing because she saw/heard the whole thing.

Z is a very good friend of mine and she has recently graduated with a degree in Animal Science or something like that.  She is very knowledgeable concerning cattle, and that is what is important in this story.

One of us makes mention of a company that we saw on the way to the house.  The company is known for artificial insemination of cattle, and this is where the story begins.

M:  What are you talking about?  What exactly is AI?
Z:  *goes off into the whole explanation since she has a degree in animal science stuff, random words heard include (but are not limited to):  dummy, catching the seed, straw, freeze, long glove, voila!*
     (M's eyes are getting wider, his skin growing paler with every scientifically correct sentence)

M:  What?!  They do what with a straw?  This is terrible.  This is a terrible thing to do!
A:  No, they don't use the straw like you are thinking.  Once they catch the seed, they put it in a long, skinny test tube that looks like a straw, and then they freeze it.
M:  Oh, okay.  But I still don't know that I understand.  Why do they do all this in the first place?
Z:  Well, there are a couple of reasons.  Geography might be an issue.  They can't get the bull and the heifer in the same place, so they just ship the seed to where she is.  It could also be a time issue.  The bull is getting older and they are trying to stockpile his stock so they can continue to make money even after the bull has passed.
M:  Why would they stockpile it?
A:  Because depending on the bull, those straws can be worth LOTS of money.  One straw can be hundreds, or possibly thousands of dollars.  That is worth stockpiling for a small fee.

For a few minutes we have "normal" conversation while M mulls all of this new information over and asks another question.

M:  Okay...so to get the semen they draw blood, right?

Z's jaw literally dropped as she just stared in disbelief.  She shot me a glance that was an entire conversation, and I just held up my hand to let her know I would answer based on the fact that she was incapable of speech at that moment.

A:  Um, M, you know that blood and semen are two very different things, right?  They come from very different parts of your body for very different reasons.  And if they ever mix, for any reason, you should get that checked right away.
M:  What?  Yes.  Yes, I know.  Sorry.  All the other science words had me confused and grossed out.  I know the difference.
A:  Good.  Because you're a boy, and, as a girl, I don't want to have to explain that to you.  If you were a girl it would be a little different, but you're not, so it's not.

More "normal" conversation ensues until he asks another random question.

M:  So they do this AI for cattle, and they have companies that keep the stuff and give it out to people when they pay for it, right?
Z/A:  Yes.
M:  So if I-
A:  Stop.  Stop right there.  I know what you're going to ask, and I'm not having that conversation with you.  Yes, they have these for people and they are called sperm banks.  No, I don't know what yours is worth.  If you desire any more answers of that nature, you need to go find the guys because I don't want to go into that much detail.

Needless to say, this is one of the best conversations I have ever had, and for the rest of my life, when someone asks where I was on NYE 2012, I will smile and tell them, "I was sitting around a campfire talking about bull seed with some of my best friends."  And when they stare at me with that "Seriously?" glare, I will take a deep breath and tell them of Herpes Simplex II.

Herpes (Simplex) I

[I did not use names in this story for a reason.  So be considerate and take a hint.  If I didn't use names, you shouldn't either.]

Alanna, what's the best day you've ever had?


Well, I was hanging out with a few of my friends when suddenly, a wild conversation appeared.

M: Hey, Alanna, guess what!
A: What?
M: I kissed a girl.
A: Did you like it?
*My reference was to a song.
L: And now you both have herpes!
**L's statement was a quote from Parks & Recreation Season One that is soon to be misconstrued.
M: WHAT? Youcangetherpesinyourmouth?! Alanna,whydidn'tyoutellmeIcouldgetherpes. Ididn'tknowIcouldgetherpesinmymouth![Pauses to take a breath] Do I have herpes? How do I know if I have herpes? Do you have herpes? Stay away from me! I don't want your herpes! Oh God, what have I done?!
A:..[looks at L]
L:...
A:  M, you don't have herpes. L was just being funny.
M: But how do you know, Alanna? How do you know???
A: Well, several reasons, so calm down and let's talk about this.Take a few deep breaths. You do not have herpes. I promise, and here's how I know. You and B are each other's first significant other and first kiss, to my knowledge. And you don't have blisters on your lips so you don't have Herpes Type 2
M: There are TWO kinds of herpes?
L: hahahahahaha
A: Yes, but you don't have either kind.
M: But how do you know??
A: I'm trying to explain that to you! You don't have fever blisters, which is generally how you know you have HT2. HSV2 generally manifests itself in the form of fever blisters when the person is under stress.  I've never seen you nor your girlfriend with a fever blister.  And since you've only kissed your monogamous girlfriend, I am pretty certain that you don't have the "stigma herpes" that shady people get from doing shady things.
At this point he begins to calm down and breathe normally.
M: So I don't have herpes...
A:Rig-
L: Well, you could have it and it's just lying dormant.
A: That's right.  Over 97% of people have been exposed to it, kind of like the Chicken pox, and it just lays dormant. Never doing anything. Pretty much everyone is exposed to it as a baby when Grandma and everyone kisses on them all the time [sees the look of horror in M's eye's].  But you don't have it.  I promise.  You are not one of those 97%.

Sometimes I wonder why I talk because it hardly ever ends well.  Take this conversation for instance.  A friend is quite unsure about how you get herpes and/or who actually has herpes, and I decide to spout off some random information that is very true, but extremely unhelpful.  I realize that it's not helpful when I'm not helpful, but I just can't seem to help myself.
So it is at this point that my friend begins to look at his water glass, as well as all of our water glasses with a look of contempt.  As if I secretly had herpes and sneaked a drink of water from his glass in an attempt to poison him.  So he throws his cup in the sink and gets a new one.


M: What?! So I could have it and I don't even know? And you don't even know!  Do you have herpes...either of you?  I bet you two have herpes [slowly backs away from us while glaring through squinted eyes]!
A: Sigh, we do NOT have herpes 1 or herpes 2, M.  I promise.
L:  Yeah, no fever blisters. See?
M: Get away from me!!!!!!  [gets up and moves to a piece of furniture further away]

Then we notice him playing with his phone...
A:...M...what are you doing?
M: I'm going to text my girlfriend and ask her if she has herpes.
A: ARE YOU KIDDING? YOU CANNOT DO THAT! You cannot do that.  You cannot just randomly text your girlfriend and ask her if she has herpes.  If I was your girlfriend and you did that, I would assume one of two things... (1) You are attempting to impugn my honor by implying I have done something shady or (2) YOU have done something shady and are worried you have given something to me.  Either way, I wouldn't be your girlfriend much longer.
M: So you're saying it would be a bad idea to ask her that.
A: Via text? You betcha.
L: Terrible idea. Absolutely terrible.

In the following hours we try and explain to him how HSV is contracted, the highlight of which was the following:
M: So let me get this straight.  Type 2 is on the mouth.
A: Most of the time.
M: What do you mean most of the time?
A: That depends on where you put your mouth...
M: That's gross, Alanna. You are gross.
L: hahahaha
A: Hey! I never said I did things like that.  But I work at the lab and they test for HSV in very...odd places.

Finally we establish that neither L nor myself have HSV, but we continue to discuss the topic in general terms.  Tidbits of the rest of the conversation include, "So can girls get herpes in their ovaries?" "Can I google this safely or will racy stuff come up?" "Hold on while I go get my Biology text book from my room; it's safer than google."

Randomly throughout the rest of the night, M would eye us warily, and L typically responds by licking her thumb and wiping it on his arm while cheerfully saying, "Herpes!"  That didn't help matters, but it was pretty funny.
He left that night possibly forever scarred because of our conversation.

Coming soon: Herpes [Part] 2

Bad Day Bear's Eulogy

Bad Day Bear, the Eulogy.
Preface: For my Storytelling class (possibly the best course I ever took in college), we had to give three speeches/storytelling performances.  Personal, Educational, and Professional.  Our professor had a bear she called "Bad Day Bear." She didn't want to tell us his real back story for fear it would hinder our creativity.  So here is my eulogy for BDB, which secured an A for me in the class.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may; Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today; Tomorrow will be dying.  BDB was one who believed in seizing the day.  He was a flower.  Roses without buds and with extra thorns are still flowers, right?  Well, I guess he was more of a prickly pear.  He was hard to get to know, but you knew that somewhere, deep beneath that prickly exterior, he had to be sweet.  BDB overcame great obstacles to become who he was and accomplished many great things during his short stay with us.
                BDB wasn’t always so prickly; he, like the rest of us, faced obstacles that drastically changed who he was.  He used to be a Good Day Bear until, well, those of you who knew him know what happened. The day started out like any other.  GDB and his family were out making the world a better place; brightening children’s days; sharing smiles and giving hugs.  How was Mr. Good Day Bear to know that a kid could be so happy and squeeze too hard?  It wasn’t his fault the kids at the day care popped his family’s heads right off.  Ha, it’s kind of funny if you think about the irony of Mr. Good Day Bear then beating the stuffing out of the kids. But I digress.  After his third stint in rehab following the tragedy, Good Day Bear, newly Christened BDB, had an epiphany.  He realized he could use his tragedy to inspire hope.  He quit his job and decided that instead of making peoples’ days better, he would only make them worse. Only then, after a run-in with BDB could people understand the true value of a good day.  I remember my first run-in with BDB.  It was during the blizzard of 2010.  He kept distracting the cooks right before dinner.  After the third fire alarm of the week, we stopped evacuating the building, because we figured the cold outside would probably kill us faster than the little infernos in the cafeteria downstairs.
But no matter your opinion of him, you couldn’t say he wasn’t accomplished.  He was darn good at his job.  Granted he was the cause of all bad days, but at least he was good at his job. He was dedicated.  They say that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile.  He always made sure our faces were well toned even though his wasn’t.   He smiled all the time; he enjoyed his job. I remember asking him one day, “Why are you smiling? I hate it when you smile. It means something bad is going to happen,” and he just laughed, maniacally.  And it was then that I hopped one legged around the room screaming until the slug fell of the bottom of my foot.  BDB made sure that our days were bad; and in a way, that made them better.  There was no uncertainty as to whether the day was going to be good or bad.  You knew he was there, and it was only a matter of what terrible things would happen.  You began to realize bad days weren’t all that bad when you were expecting them.  I learned I shouldn’t complain too much because it was only after getting punched in the nose I acquired the power to sneeze at will.
So what is left to say about BDB?  He died as he lived:  oddly dressed and smelling vaguely of turpentine.  And because of BDB’s bravery to overcome obstacles and his accomplishments in his field of work, I truly realize the value of a good day.  I also, now, too late, realize the value of a guaranteed bad day.  We now must trudge onward, without our friend/foe, and face each day with the uncertainty of knowing if it is going to be a bad day.  But that day starts tomorrow because a last wish is a last wish. So, according to his will, we will now shoot BDB out of this cannon into the orphanarium while the local senior choir sings "Yesterday" off key. Man, even dead he's high maintenance.

I hope he's in a happier place. But let's be honest: you don't get struck by lightning during a sunny day because God loves you, you know? Still, we can HOPE.

Pretty Bird

These stories are not my own, but they are true in their entirety.  Like I’ve said before, I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.  If you refuse to believe me for whatever reason, with you in my presence I will call and even let you speak to the inspirations of the stories.  I have little or nothing to hide.

Some of my family friends growing up were Sean and Tina*.  A little background on Sean and Tina:  They have lived in the same small town all their lives, and they own Douglas Construction.  They’ve built houses for many of their friends, and the ones that are important in this story are the Lambeths.  Kenneth and Linda Lambeth.  Before I get to the story, say “Kenneth Lambeth” out loud.  I think you have a lisp.  Speaking of lisps, how cruel is it to put an ‘s’ in lisp?  Back to the story…The Lambeths have always wanted swans in their pond in their front yard…well, Mrs. Lambeth has, anyways.  Little did they know what they would get.

Sean went about his day-to-day business, and came across an old friend with a problem.  It seemed that a buzzard had made a nest in the loft of his bard, and to make matters worse, it had laid eggs.  He was decided that he would get rid of the eggs, but Sean had a better idea.  He told his friend that he’d be by to pick them up later and to keep them intact and in the nest until then.  Sean then called the Lambeths and told them he had found swan eggs, but their mother had died, and they could have the eggs if they could find some way to incubate them until they hatched.  Ferverently they searched the town and nearby cities.  Finally they found what Tina calls the “bird man.”  He makes a living incubating birds and rehabilitating them to return them to the wild.  There was only one problem.  He did not have a swan to incubate the eggs.  However, in his words, “I have a turkey sittin’ on some duck eggs, but I can toss them out or make breakfast for ya.”  I don’t know if he made breakfast, but I do know that those “swan” eggs became the pride and joy of that turkey.  For what seemed like years the turkey faithfully sat on the eggs until they hatched.

When they did hatch, the birdman called the Lambeths to tell them so they could be joyous in the hatching of their new swans.  However, the phone call did not go exactly as they had planned.  When they asked him what the little goslings looked like he said, “You know, they don’t look that much like goslings.  They’ve gotta long, hooked beak, and they aren’t the right color.  I mean, these could be buzzards for all I can see.”  When Sean and Tina heard of this they were amused and perplexed.  Amused that the birdman couldn’t tell the difference between buzzards and geese, and perplexed by the same reason.  A few weeks went by, and Tina finally convinced Sean to call the bird man and tell him the truth.  That phone call didn’t go as planned either.  When Sean tried to confess what he had done and convince the bird man to abandon the birds, the bird man was not to be deterred.  He was convinced that they weren’t geese, that much he would agree with.  But when Sean asked him what he meant, the birdman said, “Now I know these aren’t geese, but I really think they’re flamingos!!”  The man was persistent, and Sean eventually gave up trying to convince the man otherwise.  Obviously he must know by now that they were not and will never be flamingos.  I don’t know for sure though, because the bird man now refuses to talk to Sean and Tina.

I only have three questions for the bird man.  Let’s just say for a second they could be flamingos… (1) Where are there wild flamingos in North Texas?  (2)  If they are in North Texas (outside of zoos), why has no one seen them before?  (3)  You’re an expert, you say?


*Their names have been changed to protect identities. The Lambeths, not so much, because that part of the story wouldn't make as much sense if I changed their names.