Dialogue with a Seagull

Seagull: Hi. Mind if I join you on your raft?

Me:          Did you just talk to me?

Seagull (looking around): Do you see a flying fish here?

Me:          No. I guess you are talking to me. But why a flying fish?

Seagull:  It was the last thing you saw.

Me:          Last thing I saw when?

Seagull: Before the crash.

Me:          I’m confused.

Seagull:  You were in a 40 foot hover, searching for a Soviet submarine, when the transmission froze up.

Me:          Oh. Then what?

Seagull: Well, you crashed. The helicopter is about 7,000 feet below us, halfway down the slope of the mid-Atlantic ridge.

Me:         Where’s my crew?

Seagull: You’re the only one I see.

Me:          I think I remember. Wasn’t it at night?

Seagull: How would I know? I wasn’t there.

Me:         Then how do you know about it?

Seagull: The flying fish told me.

Me:          Again with the flying fish. Flying  fish don’t fly at night.

Seagull: This one does. You were looking right at it. I have to tell you, that really upset it. It’s not respectful to stare.

Me:          Right. A sensitive flying fish.

Seagull: It’s the way they are. By the way, thanks for the spot to rest.

Me:         Thanks for the lunch.

Seagull: Lunch?

Me (grabbing the seagull by the feet): Lunch!

Seagull: What are you going to do with that knife?

Me:          Get lunch ready.

Seagull: Don’t you know you’re not supposed to eat in a survival situation if you don’t have plenty of water?

Me(letting go of the seagull): I think I remember that from my survival training. I guess this is your lucky day.

Seagull: Actually, it’s your lucky day.

Me:          I don’t see that. I’m in a raft, literally in the middle of an ocean, talking to a bird. My helicopter and my crew are at the bottom of the ocean, I have no water and I just realized I’m getting a pretty bad sunburn.

Seagull: I’d like to help but I doubt if I can.

Me:          Thanks for the offer. I guess I am getting a little delirious.

Seagull: That’s not surprising. After two days without water I’d be surprised if you weren’t.

Me:          Where did the flying fish go?

Seagull: It flew away.

Me:          You know that flying fish don’t really fly,  don’t you? They just sort of skip across the water for a ways.

Seagull: Well, since seagulls don’t talk, I think your point is moot.

Me:          I think my point is that I’m losing my grip. I guess this is how I’m going to die. I always thought my last words would be “Oh, shit” after trying the last thing I could think of to keep an airplane from crashing.

Seagull: If it’s any consolation, the flying fish said those were your exact words right before your helicopter hit the water.

Me:        Right. In the middle of a hurricane of spray and noise and splashing, he heard my last words.

Seagull: She, actually. She’s a lip reader.

Me:         Well, thanks for the company. I guess you fly off and I die now.

Seagull: We could, but I think that would upset your friends.

Me:         My friends are at the bottom of the sea.

Seagull: Not them. I was thinking of that helicopter up there looking for you.

Me:          What helicopter?

Seagull: Look to the west.

Me (waving my hands): Hey! Hey! Over here.

Seagull: I don’t think they can hear you. Don’t you have a rescue flare?

Me (pulling out my survival flare and firing it): Right! Here, over here!

Seagull: It looks like they saw your flare, they’re coming this way. I think I’ll be going. You’re going to have plenty of water pretty soon and you haven’t had lunch.

Me:         Thanks!

Rescue Swimmer: Hang on, buddy. We’ve got you.

Hoist Operator: Here, sit down. God, we’re glad to see you. We thought you were a goner. What have you been doing?

Me: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.