A Dual Over Fish

She was walking along the shore theorizing about the nature of reality, but that is unimportant for this story. What is important is the fact that she was in grave danger. Yes, that’s right, not just the boring kind of danger. The kind where you are mildly afraid for your safety. She was a person in significant risk of harm. Unless you are one of those people who think harm is just a part of life and when you die you ascend into a higher form of existence like a slug. Then, ok fine, she was not in harm, but about to experience transcendence.

But to the layperson, in the reality which most people accept, the harm involved a careening pelican who fancied her hat for lunch. For our purposes, the pelican was also a lady, Lady Pelican (LP). More on her later. You see, the human lady, who we will call not-a-lady-pelican, or NALP, was an all-in sort of person. To fully embody her new-found pescatarian diet, she had decided to incorporate fish into every aspect of her life. This involved a fish door mat, fish themed shower curtains, fish oil dietary supplements, fish socks, aquatic ambient background music, and fish themed cutlery, to name a few.

Needless to say, NALP's whole life was a tad… fishy. And thus you can see how this relates to the head garment. It too involved fish paraphernalia. There were plastic trout of marvelous color hanging from springs wobbling as she walked. There was a moat of water circling the brim in which real life goldfish swam about. They served as her mid-day snack when she got hungry.

So there she was, walking near the beach on an afternoon stroll, unaware of the grave danger she was in. This is a perfect example of ignorance most definitely not being bliss. The pelican was especially hungry too, so she ignored the fact that it was a bit odd that food was walking along the beach, not swimming in the water. But reason tends to go out the window when appetite grabs the wheel.

Lady Pelican began her dive. Maneuvering through the crowded airspace. It’s always crowded on a warm, sunny afternoon. And the air traffic controllers are usually midway through a pleasant afternoon nap, so poor pelicans have to be especially careful. She spun and twirled and dodged and dipped, just for fun she did a few flips. But just when she thought her meal was secured, NALP realized the predicament she was in and started running.

Now, LP was no faint fowl, she wasn’t going to give up that easily. So she gave chase. And as any casual sight seer can attest, winged animals have a significant advantage when it comes to covering distance. That is to say, NALP’s efforts were in vain. LP opened her big bird beak and grabbed hold of the prize. But to her surprise, this was no easy prey. NALP cherished her hat dearly, so naturally she didn’t want to let it go. Holding on for dear life, the two put up quite a fight.

Frustrated, LP gave her wings a heavy flap and with that she lifted the poor pescatarian right off her feet. Onlookers were rightfully shocked when they saw NALP be taken off, screeching with delight. Because, yes, she was phobic of this aggressive bird, but she also had always wanted to fly. As a consequence she was confusingly ambivalent about the situation. The city below looked marvelous and terrifying.

So there they were, two birds fighting in flight. Both with an obsession with fish. It was perhaps unevenly matched. If NALP were to win by securing her hat, she would have to deal with the unfortunate nature of gravity, that being: not dying by falling. But if LP were to win, she would just fly happily away with her prize. The only inconvenience would be the springs and polyester digested and passed later: a rather painful process, but well worth it.

Eventually, they both wore themselves out. So they agreed to descend from the sky and hash things out the civilized way: over tea and argumentation. While waiting in line to order, LP and NALP kept a close eye on one another to make sure no funny business was going to happen. Then they sat down to discuss, sipping the steaming hot brew. Salud. It was mediated by the cafe owner, also not a pelican (ANAP), who had witnessed the dispute and thought it a noble cause to participate in, so he volunteered his time— a modern-day altruist.

ANAP structured the debate like this: LP was to be given a minute to present her case for ownership of the unusually designed garment. NALP would then be given the chance to rebut for a minute. And finally the audience, which consisted of confused patrons of said cafe, would make the final decision.

LP began by describing her childhood as a baby pelican. It was picture perfect: days on the ocean diving and eating fish, not much to complain about, except for days without a catch. She then detailed the great injustice of NALP wearing a hat that was, in fact, food. LP’s pelican nature cannot be overridden, so when she sees fish she must swoop. To this comment, the audience gave a roaring applause. It continued for so long that ANAP had to improvise a gavel by banging a spoon against a French press to quiet everyone down.

NALP then began her rebuttal. She also talked about her childhood. It was close to picture perfect, but had one significant deficit: a severe lack of fish. Growing up, she hungered for the slimy and finned creatures day and night, but never was able to satisfy it. When she became an adult, she swore to devote her life to the consumption of fish. As she said this last statement, she pounded her fist against her chest with determination, which received somber approval from onlookers.

With that, ANAP rose from his chair and asked the gentle, coffee-sipping jury to deliberate. There was hushed mumbling and occasional bickering, but soon enough a young girl, who actually was a pelican (little girl pelican, or LGP) stepped forward. LGP first commented on how unusual the occasion was. She then announced that while both sides had certainly suffered their fair share of fishless days, which was truthfully a tragedy, the consensus was that it was, indeed, quite improper and insensitive for NALP to wear her fish hat, especially so close to the ocean (the place of fish-eating pelicans). Thus, they declared LP the rightful victor of the debate and winner of the fish hat— fair and square.

The news had a profound effect: NALP broke down in tears, spilling some of her moat water from the brim. But they weren’t solely tears of loss, she was also crying-laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing. A singular goldfish seized the opportunity (evidently an opportunistic goldfish) by making an escape attempt. But LP has an eye for this sort of thing, so she jutted out her bill and slurped up the little guy before he fled— the first of her many snacks from the hat. NALP sniffled and conceded the loss. They both left graciously: shaking wing and hand. NALP doffed her hat, placing it in the large throat pouch, whispering goodbyes.

The audience cheered as LP strutted out the door and took off with mighty flaps and beats. NALP began her slow, long walk home. She was still ambivalent about the day, having fulfilled her dream of flying, but she resolved to indulge in some sardines as soon as she got back— her go-to comfort food. She looked out to the horizon and watched LP fly into the sunset. Everything felt oddly right, like a perfect ending, except for her bald head, which felt like it was missing something.