Jeff was walking down the road the first time he was attacked. Busy tweeting to his mates, he didn’t see the seagull until it was on him, flapping its wings in his face and squawking angrily. Seconds later it was gone, as if it had all been a dream.
He was standing on the edge of the pavement, shaking with shock, when a bus driver honked his horn angrily. Idiot, thought Jeff, stepping back onto the curb to allow the bus to pass, before crossing the road. A few minutes later, he texted to his mates, “You’ll never guess what just happened to me….I was attacked by a mad bird!” That got a few smiley emoticons and some witty comments about the blonde he’d been seen tongue-wrestling the previous weekend.
A few days later, he was on his way to the bank when it happened again. He was reading a funny tweet from Jimmy, when a seagull swooped down, shrieking angrily. He tried to fight the bird off, but it was no use. Eventually, he was forced to flee, running home. Only then, did the attack relent.
His phone chirped as he was unlocking his front door, “#Bank Robbery in the High Street. Three people shot dead!” Jeff read the message. For the next hour, the local bank robbery was the hottest tweet topic, before a hot celebrity scandal demoted it
Monday morning and Jeff was on his way to work, driving down the High Street when his phone chirped at him again. Reaching over, he hit the button and glanced down at the message. His mates were always sending him funny shit to read.
Jeff dropped his phone and slammed on his brakes, heart beating like a hummingbird. A lorry swerved in front of his car, horn blaring angrily as it drove by.
Jeff’s windscreen had turned into a mosaic of broken glass. Something had hit it with considerable force.
Getting out of his car, he looked at the bloody carcass that lay on his bonnet. It took him a moment to realise what it was. It was a dead seagull. Cursing his luck, he pulled over to the side of the road and called his insurance company.
An old lady pottered over as he was waiting for the recovery vehicle.
“That was a stroke of luck,” she said.
He ignored her. She had probably been adding gin to her tea or something.
“I said, that was a stroke of luck,” she persisted.
“Luck!” he exclaimed, rising to the bait despite his better judgement. “Look at my bleeding windscreen!”
“Didn’t you see? You drove straight through that red light. If the bird hadn’t hit you, that lorry certainly would have. Me, I’d call that luck. That bird saved your life!”
“Whatever,” he muttered. She was obviously barking mad. He was pretty sure the light had been green when he drove through it …wasn’t it?
The old woman walked off, shaking her head.
Jeff took a photo of the dead bird and tweeted it to his friends. #Monday Morning’s. #S.S.D.D!
By the time the repair truck came to replace his windscreen, Jeff was already over an hour late for an important meeting. Getting back into his car, h floored it down the motorway hoping to make up for lost time. He was doing ninety in the outside lane when he heard the cheeping of his phone again.
Later that day, the hottest tweet was about Jeff. #Tragic motorway death.
His guardian angel had saved him three times, even sacrificing its own life in the process, but Jeff had ignored all the warnings. Despite the seagull’s best efforts, the coronary’s verdict still read, #Death by Tweeting.