I Still Need $850,000

This was a bit of a backward Sunday. We woke up early – too early for Daddy. Daddy stayed up until about 1 a.m. to see the main event of UFC 100. Brock Lesnar beat Frank Mir for the heavyweight championship. I was rooting for Mir, but oh well. We had a blueberry pancake and scrambled eggs breakfast, which was delicious, and then we spent the morning cleaning. We’re still trying to get resettled from the destruction unleashed by the plumbers. My parents stopped by for their weekly visit on the way home from church and we discussed Harry Potter and how incredibly bad golf is on television, among other things. Then CG made some sandwiches to go along with the goldfish and we went to the beach. We were having a blast – as per usual – when some people who were clearly from out of town opened up a loaf of Autumn Grain and started feeding the seagulls. Who the hell does that? They’re sky rats. How is it possible that anyone doesn’t know this? They had kids with them ranging in age from about six to about thirteen, which means they must have seen Finding Nemo somewhere along the way. Don’t they remember the Seagulls obnoxiously screaming mine, mine, mine and chasing anything that slightly resembled food as a flock? Even if they haven’t seen it, which is a near impossibility, there are signs all over the beach saying don’t litter, and I’m pretty sure when the pieces of bread that the gulls didn’t grab out of midair hit the ground they, by definition, became litter. Where were the beach police? Would it have been bad form for me to call 911? I figure these people were probably very nice people, who just didn’t know any better, but ignorance of the beach law is no beach defense, and when I’m mayor of Atlantic Beach I’m going to make sure the penalty for feeding the seagulls is stiffer than it is right now. But I have to be a resident first, so I’m going to need a beach house.