It All Started With a Seagull, a novelette (Part 1: Gulliver's Travesty)

“Ohmygod, this is niiiice!”

That was what everyone said when they opened the door to a new hotel room for the first time, and that was what Mallory Devlin said when she first set foot in her room on the thirteenth floor of the Malsuerte Hotel in San Juan, Puerto Rico. This time, Mallory was correct. 

The Malsuerte had clearly been an upscale resort from the time they first laid eyes on it online, but the room in which Mallory and her new husband Tristan would be staying for their honeymoon exceeded even those lofty expectations. It was big and roomy, with two king-sized beds that boasted cotton sheets and many massive, incredibly soft pillows. The curtains were velvety and royal-looking, maroon and gold with elaborate designs stitched into them. A gargantuan-screen TV was perfectly placed in the center between the two beds. All kinds of expensive-looking decorations adorned the walls, tables, and TV stand, including glass vases, statuettes of mysterious-looking religious figures, and Renaissance-y paintings that looked like they could have been hanging in the Louvre.

No gloriously comfortable luxury in the room, however, stood out more than the view. As Tristan opened the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony, he was hit with the most stunning tropical landscape upon which his eyes had ever feasted.

“Holy shit, this is amazing,” he whispered breathlessly to himself. “Girl, come look at this!”

Mallory strolled over to the balcony and took it all in with him. Seemingly miles of lush white sand stretched across the glorious Isla Verde beach, azure-blue waves of ocean water pushing up against it. Countless scantily clad tourists were spread out across this heaven on earth, experiencing the most blissful, pure relaxation state of their lives. 

“Oh my god,” Mallory marveled again. “No wonder they charged us that $1,000 security deposit. This really is nice.”

As the picture-perfect sun set over the endless waves, beachgoers had begun filing back to their hotels, almost giving the two lovebirds the whole area to themselves. Both Tristan, a thirty-year-old ornithologist, and Mallory, a thirty-two-year-old accountant, were coming off stressful work days. They had been in a sour mood as they’d hustled to Detroit Metro Airport at 3 a.m. that morning, then suffered through an excruciating TSA line to make their 5:15 a.m. flight. 

The upside to this nocturnal schedule, however, was that it gave them plenty of day remaining after they touched down in San Juan. They were able to lie down for a couple hours after checking in to the Malsuerte and picking up their rental car, getting to recharge their mental batteries before getting their first taste of paradise. Now, despite a very poor night of sleep, they carried a second wind as they explored the tropical getaway.

“Ahh, this is what it’s all about,” Tristan sighed in satisfaction as he stared out at the peaceful, rolling waves, stretching out his tan, muscular arms behind his head. “All the daily bullshit in life, the fucked-up things going on in the world. Moments like this make it all worth it.”

“Ugh, so true,” Mallory chirped, snuggling up to him on their beach towel. “Who gives a damn about Julie and her freakin’ daily compliance checks? Couldn’t be me when I’m out here with you.” Julie was Mallory’s boss, who had become quite the micromanager as of late.

“Absolutely could not be,” Tristan agreed. “And I give even less of a damn about Dr. Sheldon talking down to me like I’m some snot-nosed little kid. Fuck Dr. Sheldon!” Dr. Sheldon was Tristan's boss, the smartest and most arrogant bird scientist he had ever met.

“You know what, Tristan?” Mallory said. “Dr. Sheldon can suck my dick.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Tristan cracked. “And Julie can suck my dick as well. Actually … no. That would be gross.”

“Yeah, don’t get any ideas, buddy,” Mallory laughed, smacking him in his hairy chest. “You’re a married man.”

“Yeah, just messing with you, sis,” Tristan admitted. “She’s a little out of my age range. Like, thirty years out of it.”

“Good,” Mallory cooed, putting her finger to his lips. Tristan admired her long, blonde hair as it flowed in the summer sunset. She looked ravishing in her blue-and-white striped bikini. At this moment, Tristan couldn’t have been happier that he had married her.

Mallory stared deeply into Tristan’s brown eyes, admiring his rugged, masculine good looks. He had a belly that gave him a little bit of a “dad bod,” but his biceps really popped in his dark blue tank top. He was a good, solid, reliable, funny guy, and Mallory was thankful to have him.

The two of them held hands as they waded out into the calm ocean waves, the bright orange sun setting over them like a small citrus fruit in the distance. They let the waves take control and wash over them, knocking them back onto the sandy ocean floor. Tristan splashed some water on Mallory, who giggled and splashed it back. Tristan then ran out and dove at the waves, letting them knock him around and submerge him, inducing even more laughter from his wife. Other than the salty burn of the water scorching their eyes, life was perfect.

Things hadn’t gotten any less perfect the following morning, when Tristan and Mallory again stood on the balcony and gazed out at the glorious beach. The two of them were only half dressed, his arms wrapped around her midsection as they leaned over the edge. The good vibes of the night had carried over to the next day, and they had just completed a morning cardio session that released even more happy chemicals into their brains. 

“You, Mallory Elise Devlin, are an absolute superstar,” Tristan raved, still catching his breath. “Somehow you surprise me more and more every time.”

Mallory flipped her hair over her shoulder proudly and felt up his chest. “Oh, you have no idea what else is in my bag of tricks, young man,” she said with a wink. 

Tristan and Mallory shared a kiss. They had yet to finish their face-sucking, however, when they heard a high-pitched squawking sound that almost sounded like a laugh mocking them. They looked up to see a medium-sized multicolored bird perched on the balcony railing, smugly showing off its black head and tail, white-and-gray body, and orange beak. Tristan instantly knew what it was, and he felt like it knew something they didn’t.

“Who is this motherfucker cackling at us?” Mallory cracked.

“It’s a laughing seagull,” Tristan said. “Very common here in the Caribbean. Dudes will eat almost anything.”

“Ooh, look at you, Mr. Bird Nerd,” Mallory teased him. “Coming in with your ornithology knowledge, very sexy.”

“Not as sexy as when you do the taxes, babe,” Tristan shot back, and she gave him a wink and a pat on the backside.

“You know you love it,” Mallory responded. “Let’s get down to the beach, bird boy. I’m trying to catch some more rays.”

         “All right, all right.”

         Tristan slid open the glass door back into the room, and as soon as he did, their laughing friend made an unexpected, rapid-fire move. In a blur of black, orange, and gray feathers, the gull swooped off the ledge and bolted into their room. No sooner could Mallory finish letting out a high-pitched shriek than the suddenly aggressive bird smashed into the 65-inch TV screen with its full body weight, knocking it off the stand and shattering the glass into a million pieces.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Mallory wailed, but their feathered foe’s rampage was just getting started. He flew into the two Renaissance paintings framed on the walls, knocking them to the floor and cracking their frames. He plowed through multiple vases and statuettes, sending them toppling to the floor and breaking them. The gull then unleashed a torrent of sticky white biological weaponry into the velvet curtains and the cotton sheets of the bed. 

“Oh my god, Tristan, this is fucked! We have to do something!” Mallory’s freakout continued.

“I’m trying, Mal, I’m trying! I’ve never heard of a laughing gull acting like this!”

         Tristan was swinging around a rolled-up beach towel at the vicious bird, trying in vain to swat him away from the expensive items he was rapidly annihilating. 

         “Open the door, Tristan! Open the fucking door!”

         “It’s open, he’s not flying out!”           

“The door to the hallway! Let this be someone else’s problem!”

         “Are you sure that’s going to help us?!”

“Just do it, Tristan! I’m about to have a panic attack!”

“Okay, okay!”

Tristan swung open the door and let the creature out into the hallway. Little did he know, however, that the hotel guest directly across the hall from them was just opening his own door to leave the room. The unfortunate patron, a bald, middle-aged man from India, was rudely greeted by the monstrous gull flying directly into his face, knocking him to the floor and the glasses off his head.

“Hey! What have you done, sir?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Tristan, who still wore only his boxer shorts. “You allow your … sick creature to attack me?! And put on some clothing, young man, you are an embarrassment!”

“I’m sorry, it was an accident!” Tristan yelped, nearly through tears. “It’s not our bird, I don’t even know how he got in here!” 

Mallory paced around their room with hands on her head, beside herself with anxiety.

“Tell it to the judge — ” the man continued in his accent, but before he could elaborate, the gull flew back up and swooped over into his room. It crashed into a black marble urn on his TV stand and sent it careening to the ground, where it was decimated into pieces and released a gray, ashy powder. The man looked at Tristan and Mallory, then down at the mess on the floor, then back at them. We’re fucked, Tristan and Mallory thought in unison.  

“Ok, there is no goddamn way in the world you just did that,” the man said slowly in disbelief, putting his hands to his face. “Those are my grandmother’s ashes! I carry her memory with me everywhere I go, and you allow this creature to disrespect and tarnish her like she is nothing! You people are paying for all of this!”

“Sir, I think we have plenty of bills to pay already,” Mallory said firmly. “We’re about to go down to the front desk and take care of all of this.”

“Good, you better, missy,” the man fired back. “I’m getting my payment one way or the other. And put on some clothes, you look like a slut.”

Mallory gasped in disbelief. Like Tristan, she hadn’t had the chance to get dressed, wearing only a flannel shirt over her bra and panties.

“How dare you talk to me like that!” she reprimanded him. “We were in a hurry to get rid of this thing, okay? That is demeaning and disrespectful to women.”

“Shove it up your ass, whore,” he snapped back.

“Fuck you, he's my husband!” she cried. “Tristan, what do we do with this fucking bird?”

“I don’t know, this is extremely abnormal behavior for a laughing gull,” he said. “Maybe it has Pacheco’s disease or something? Just gotta try to catch it and get it out of here.”

The gull had calmed down and now sat on the floor in the hall. Tristan lunged after it, but the slippery son of a bitch darted away and through the door leading to the stairwell. Clothing be damned, Tristan and Mallory followed after it down the stairs, leaving the irate Indian man shouting after them but not bothering to chase.

         The distressed couple crashed and fumbled their way down thirteen flights of stairs, making desperate grabs for the bird but failing to capture it. Mallory almost fell over the railing a couple of times, but Tristan pulled her back by the waist. They got no shortage of weird looks from fellow hotel guests who passed them as they descended the stairs. When Tristan made another dive and fell into the corner by a wall, Mallory helped pull him back up.

“Baby, be careful,” she cautioned him. The gull continued to laugh at them and evade their grasp as they descended all thirteen flights, stopping at the closed door to the lobby.

“Shit, now what do we do?” Tristan wondered. “Can’t let him get in there.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Mallory said as she slid down the wall and sat on the floor, head in hands. “But I refuse to go all the way back up those damn stairs.”

“As do I,” Tristan concurred. “Maybe we wait here for someone else to come through this door? Then it’ll be their fault instead of ours.”

“Ugh, I guess we can try that,” Mallory groaned. 

They waited by the door in silence for about five minutes, which felt more like five hours. The dreaded villainous gull was as relaxed as ever, flapping around in the air a little but spending most of its time scampering across the floor and showing no signs of aggression.

“Okay, I can’t do this anymore,” Mallory finally said, standing up. “No one’s coming in here, and this thing creeps me the fuck out. Plus, we have to go tell the front desk what happened before Mr. Misogyny across the hall starts snitching on us. Then we should go get some food and try to forget about this for a while.”

“You sure about that?” Tristan wondered. “Opening doors around this bastard hasn’t exactly worked out for us. With our luck, it’ll wreck everything in the damn lobby too.”

Mallory sighed. “I’m fucking hungry, Tristan.” 

She stood up to the door and opened it as quickly as she possibly could, trying to slip out into the lobby. As soon as the door opened a tiny crack, however, the laughing gull flashed forward and escaped, nearly taking Tristan’s head off. Tristan glared at Mallory.

“Well, now we can go into the lobby no problem,” he said sarcastically. She looked down at the floor for a second before they once again pursued the avian offender.

Sadly, the couple’s luck wouldn’t get any better in the lobby. Greeted by gasps from more stunned hotel guests, the bird swooped across the big front desk and knocked over multiple stacks of papers and bottles of hand sanitizer. The destruction was still just beginning, as the laughing gull went on to knock a couple more Louvre-quality paintings off the wall behind the concierge. He then flashed forward into the lounge area, moving quickly enough to evade capture by Tristan and Mallory, who knew how completely insane they looked but couldn’t bring themselves to care.

Of all the Malsuerte’s symbols of excessive opulence, the fountain in the lobby was its magnum opus. It was made of solid gold and filled with clear blue, brilliant water, but what set it apart was the statue that sat in the fountain. The statue portrayed a cherubic young boy with the appearance of a golden god, urinating ferociously into the water. 

Beautiful, timeless, and classical as the peeing angel boy may have been, the laughing gull wasted no time in showing his lack of regard for high art. He rammed his body into the young boy’s crotch, knocking him backwards out of the fountain, breaking his body in half, and causing his stream to point up in the air. The lobby quickly started to become drenched with angel piss, and more and more guests ran screaming out the heavy marble doors. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the seagull swooped away and out the doors with the panicked patrons, leaving a bevy of destruction, shattered gold, and bodily fluids — real and imaginary — in its wake.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! What is the meaning of all this, huh?” a gruff middle-aged man exclaimed in a native Puerto Rican accent, rushing forward and righting the beloved statue. This was Adolfo, the front desk attendant who had checked Tristan and Mallory in the day before. He seemed to be in a perpetual state of mild annoyance, and they couldn’t quite put their finger on why. A large, olive-skinned man, Adolfo sported slicked-back black hair, a strikingly debonair mustache, and a crisp polo shirt tucked neatly into his bright white khakis.

“Ohmygod, we are so sorry,” Mallory stammered. “We have no idea what happened with that thing. It came into our room, and then it just went crazy and started destroying everything.”

“It’s so weird, man, seriously,” Tristan said. “I don’t understand what got into it. I’m an ornithologist, and laughing gulls never behave like that unless they have some kind of disease. We’ll do what we can to help clean up.”

Adolfo stroked his chin and started pacing the lobby floor in circles, calculating his response.

“Help clean up, huh?” he inquired, slowly boiling into a rage. “HELP CLEAN UP? HUH?! I think you two have helped quite enough already! Show me your room!”

“What?!” Mallory cried, frazzled.

“Right now?” Tristan asked.

“Yes! Right now! And put these towels around yourselves!” He brandished two white towels out of nowhere. “Running around my hotel in your underwear? What are you thinking? It’s a goddamn disgrace!”

“Sir, we were in a hurry trying to catch the seagull so this wouldn’t happen,” Mallory explained, taking a towel and wrapping it around herself. “We didn’t have time to get dressed.”

“We figured it would be okay, there’s people walking around here in bikinis and swim trunks and stuff all the time,” Tristan said, wrapping his towel.

“NO!” Adolfo bellowed. “NOT OKAY! Bikinis are good, but undergarments are utterly inappropriate! Now, lead me to your room, cabrones!”

He held out his arm aggressively, signalling for them to lead the way, and they entered a beautiful, diamond-studded elevator up to the scene of their nightmares.

“Oh my goodness gracious, this is the greatest amount of damage to a hotel room I have ever seen in my life.” Adolfo was beside himself as he paced around their room, #1313, palms to his face in agony. “Why, God?! Why would you do this to me? I pray to you every day, good sir! This beautiful establishment that I have poured my heart and soul into! WHY?!” 

He fell to his knees, hands in prayer position, and looked up desperately at the heavens, tears welling in his eyes. While Tristan and Mallory understood why he would be upset, this seemed a little over the top, like Adolfo was trying to put on an Oscar-worthy performance. Seemingly out of nowhere, the big man managed to collect himself and peel his body up from the floor.

“Okay, now let’s talk about the damages that you two will be liable for,” Adolfo said, suddenly businesslike as he produced a clipboard and pen. “So assessing everything in this room and the lobby that you have destroyed, as well as the poor gentleman’s room across the hall, you are looking at about …” He stroked his chin again, appearing to do some calculations in his head. “$326,000.”

“WHAT?!” Mallory sputtered in shock. “We didn’t do this ourselves, sir! It was the seagull that got in!”

“How did you calculate that so quickly?” Tristan wondered.

“And how did you know about the guy across the hall?” Mallory asked. “He’s not even there anymore. His door is closed!”

“Ah, but we have had multiple guests in our hotel complain about the carnage you two have caused,” Adolfo said, sounding almost whimsically happy. “Dr. Gaekwar was just one of your victims. I happen to know the exact value of every fabulously valuable item that we were kind enough to decorate your room with, so it was a simple calculation in my head. And you two are very much liable, don’t you get it twisted. The bird does not have a bank account.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest with a smug grin, seeming proud of himself.

“I know the bird can’t pay but … shouldn’t the hotel have some liability here?” Mallory asked frantically. “We didn’t choose to have all this expensive shit in our room! Are you kidding me? The seagull flew in from the balcony. We tried to stop it from getting in. Watch the security footage!”

“Ma’am, we do not have security cameras in the rooms, as that would be a violation of your privacy,” Adolfo explained. “We choose to give you the ‘expensive shit.’ It is hotel property, and thus you are liable for the damage. And you not only allowed the bird in the room, you allowed it into Dr. Gaekwar’s room and all over the hotel!”

“We were trying to chase it down and get rid of it!” Mallory screamed.

“Sir, we can’t afford this,” Tristan said bluntly. “We only have about … $10,000 total in our bank accounts. It’s a stretch for us to travel like we do, but we do it because we love it, and we want to enjoy your beautiful native land. Please, is there any way we can do the dishes or pay some other way?”

Tristan and Mallory both looked at Adolfo with pleading desperation in their eyes. Adolfo was silent for a moment, giving them some hope.

“No,” he said. “You will be receiving a bill, and I expect it paid in due time. You will also not be getting your security deposit back. No chance!”

“Okay, this is fucked up!” Mallory cried. “We’re gonna get an attorney involved, and we’re not paying you this shit! We didn’t choose to have that goddamn bird wreck everything!”

“Something doesn’t seem right here,” Tristan said, and Mallory nodded in agreement.

“Good luck finding a lawyer on this island who won’t charge you out your sweet ass,” Adolfo challenged them. “And when you have to pay the damages anyway, those legal fees won’t be helping you out at all.” 

He winced in “sympathy” as he left the room. A few minutes later, as Tristan and Mallory sat on their birdshit-covered bed in their towels with no idea what to do next, a piece of paper was slipped under the door of room 1313. Tristan went over and picked it up. 

“Did he really?” Mallory whispered shakily, sounding broken inside.

Tristan nodded sadly and showed her the bill. 

$326,423.69.

Tristan and Mallory finally changed into actual clothes, packed up their belongings that weren’t stained with bird feces, and made their way out onto the streets of San Juan. They had no idea where they were going next, but they knew they weren’t going to be staying in the hellhole of the Malsuerte for one second longer.

“Fuck, Tristan, our flight home’s not until Sunday,” Mallory said as they walked down the sun-splashed tourist-packed street near Isla Verde Beach. “It’s only Tuesday. Wanna just ask if one of these other hotels can take us?”

“No, I want to sleep on the street,” Tristan groaned sarcastically. “Yes, that’s our only option, Mallory. Fuck.”

“Okay, no need to get snippy with me, I was just asking,” Mallory said. “Let’s try this place.”

        They entered the lobby of the hotel next door to the Malsuerte, a more plain, humble, everyday establishment, and walked up to the front desk.

        “Hello,” Mallory chirped, putting on a cheerful face for the attendant. “How much for a room for two until next Sunday?”       

The front-desk woman looked carefully at the two of them, seemingly scrutinizing every detail of their faces. After several seconds, she began shaking her head sadly.

        “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I cannot allow you two to stay here,” she said in her native accent, trying to sound polite. 

        “What?! Why not?” Mallory demanded.

        “We have received word from our neighbors over at the Malsuerte that you two were causing some trouble over there. I do not want to bring that to our hotel. Unfortunately, we cannot take your business.”

        “Damn, seriously?!” Tristan was beside himself. “They told you guys about that? Already?”

        “Yes, we have a very close relationship with each other as neighboring businesses,” the lady explained. “Mr. Adolfo sent me pictures of you two, and I will not have any of this seagull drama coming with you to our establishment. Now I’m afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.”

Stunned into silence, the two looked at each other for several long seconds before taking another slow, soul-crushing walk out onto the street.

Part 2: No Bueno