Cursed Pt. 2

Hello, glad the curiosity got the better of you all.

I shall set a small disclaimer here: Prepare yourselves, as this really was a near-death experience and Mother and I are still recovering. Please send chocolates and tissues. Maybe a rom-com?

Turning into our parking spot, sighs of relief and tummy rumbles.

“OH MY GOD! HONEY! What’s that?!” *Mother points to a rock on the roof of a car next to us*

“A rock? I don’t know – I can’t see… it’s dark…” The rock moves. The moonlight has caught two, round eyes.

“IT’S ALIVE!” Mother screams.

I scream.

Instantly we lock the doors. There’s really no chance we can get out. Hunger will have to wait.

“What is it?!” The fear strikes as I hear a squawk. A bird. It’s a bird. I’m sure you all know by now but if you are unaware, Mother’s bird phobia is apparently genetic and consequently we are both a mess.

A car approaches and we bang our windows; “SOS! SOS! HELP US! PLEASE WE’RE TRAPPED SEND HELP!!!! SOS SOS SOS!”

The car ignores our cries for help and turns a corner.

Mother thinks it’s a great idea to explicitly inform me of the likely event that took place before our arrival: “I bet it’s nearly dead. Oh god, it’s been trying to fly hasn’t it?! Oh gosh, it’s just… there. Not moving. It’s going to die… look, it’s head has sunk into it’s body! It’s neck has just… gone!”

I feel sick.

“That’s the squawking! That’s the mother! Oh NO! The mother’s here somewhere… we won’t survive, Darling!”

At this moment a giant eagle lands on the street lamp by our car (ok, the mother owl – but what’s the difference tonight?!) Immediately, fear overcomes and I burst into tears. Mother’s ‘mother’ role is now fully in gear and she produces an umbrella from the side of the car.

“ It’s alright, don’t panic, Darling. Mummy’s got an umbrella, see?”

Nope. I am not okay. “NO! WE’RE GOING TO DIE HERE! THIS IS OUR DEATH! SOMEONE’S OUT TO GET US AND THIS IS THE LAST STRAW! We’ve survived everything thrown at us but THIS IS IT! This is worse than the truck oh my God!”

“Don’t be silly! Oh for goodness sake! What is the first thing I tell you in these situations?! DON’T PANIC! This is not worse than the truck, for God’s sake, Darling! The truck would tip us over and we’d be in a pile up in seconds! The worst that could happen here is that owl would swoop down, whip the umbrella from my hands and peck at my face *drastically aggressive hand gestures of face-pecking*”

“Great. Thank you, Mother. I feel so much better. I’m just going to crawl into this glove box until we’re rescued.”

“RESCUED! OH MY GOD THAT’S IT, DARLING! Oh God, fabulous! I’ll call security!”

As we await our personal emergency services, Mother reapplies her lipstick and pesters me to open the window and wave violently to the security. I do not open the window because believe it or not I’m not yet insane. I do, however, press my terrorised face against the window in the hope the moonlight will catch it and we will be identified. We are!

The security car pulls up a few metres behind us and out step two bullet-proof-vested vigilantes. At this time of night, the quality of security steps up and they are equipped with guns, tasers, batons and other unidentifiable paraphernalia. Both ready to take down a bear with their batons raised high in their hands. Having looked around and seen nothing, they come over to Mother’s car window; “Hello madam, you called - what seems to be the problem?”

“Oh! Thank GOD you’re here! Honestly, we’ve been trapped for ages! We both have bird phobias you see! Oh god, it’s been terrible! See? Over there, on the roof of the car? There’s a BIRD! AN OWL! There’s a Mother too! Oh god, help us please! We want to go inside! They’re going to attack us!!”

“I – you mean, a bird? I don’t --- oh, no, right. I see. Yes. I see. Oh, madam, they won’t attack you. You’re perfectly safe, I promise.”

At this point, Vigilante 2’s eyes light up; “Ohhh! I’ll take him! I want a little bird! Aww, yes I shall take him home!”

“Please, step out of your car – we shall protect you”

Uh-oh. Such a small phrase and Mother’s knees went. A glance at me. A wink. This is not the time, Mother!

So. We are now being escorted from our car to our front door by two impressive Spanish vigilantes. Mother’s fear subsides (now in the arms of two strapping young men) and giggles; “Thank you so much, you’ve saved our lives! I’m sorry to have to call you out like this – it probably isn’t necessary but we were just so scared!”

I’m certain these two men thought it was a wind up as the giggling smile hadn’t slipped from their faces since they discovered the ‘emergency’.

As if embarrassment were not at its highest, Mother then asks for a photograph with them. Mortified.

Sidenote: please try not to buy either of us that owl-design stationery.

Charlotte-Elizabeth xoxo