Bromford and Seagull …

»Bromford, dude?«

»Yes, llama?«

»You are breaking the circle.«

»What circle?«

»You are leaving the row. Those birds originally weren't the next in line. Where did those seagulls come from?«

»Out of the blue.«

»I think, they even weren't on your list of possible next animal companion candidates. Where are you, dude? On vacation at the sea?«

»We are always at the sea, animal. Remember? Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside? Seagulls are everywhere. They are inevitable. They come out of the blue, sometimes out of the blue sky. They attack you. They steal your food. They especially like fries. Never eat fries at the seaside on a sunny day or on the roof-terrace, llama.«

»Okay.«

»And do you remember that seagull on that roof near the Sistine Chapel chimney at the Vatican during the last Papal Conclave when the whole world was watching that chimney waiting for black or white smoke? The seagull was looking straight into the cameras filming and photographing that chimney. It was the real star of that Conclave, regardless of coloured smoke. I bet it was carrying Pope Francis' soul on his way to heaven and carefully and critically watching over the election of Pope Leo.«

»Okay?«

»The more I think about it… maybe it was member of the Roman seagull mafia. And it was them - not all those red Cardinals - who elected Robert Francis Prevost as new head of the Catholic Church and sovereign of the Vatican City State, only because he is American, born in Chicago, and America is home of the greatest burgers and fries in the whole wide world. Oh, they especially like fries, those seagulls.«

»What is wrong with you, dude? Where does your new obsession with the Catholic Church and the Papal Conclave and especially seagulls come from all of a sudden?«

»Out of the blue, llama, all comes out of the blue. But today is Thursday, and Thursday is therapy day. I have been dealing a lot with my Larosphobia these days.«

»What phobia?«

»Larosphobia - the fear of somewhere, somehow being watched by a seagull. Not being attacked, not chased, just... watched. Silently. Judging. Just looking in your general direction.«

»Oh, my goodness, dude! What happened to your Anatidaephobia?«

»My what, animal?«

»Anatidaephobia - the fear of somewhere, somehow being watched by a duck? Not being attacked, not chased, just... ducked?«

»THERE IS A DUCK WATCHING ME???

I feel good.
I feel great.
I feel wonderful.

I feel good.
I feel great.
I feel wonderful.«

And high above the flat roof of the little penthouse on top of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, the seagulls are flying in circles and singing their unmusical chants,

»Mine? Mine? Mine! Mine!«

🆒🆒🆒🆒🆒🆒🆒

Today is Thursday, the 7th of August, 2025.