The Seagull Wore Glasses

By Gord Elliston

It all started with an adventure, hunting for a perfect piece of wood to make a cane or walking stick, one with a bit of style. It took ten hours to paint, varnish and polish. It took that thieving seagull just seconds to steal my glasses.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781300206200

Book preview

The Seagull Wore Glasses

THE SEAGUL WORE GLASSES

With Camp Fire Doug

The Seagull Wore Glasses

This story is fiction.  The characters are fictional. The events are purely fantasy. Any resemblance to anyone is coincidental. Any one claiming to be portrayed in this farce ought to be ashamed of them self for admitting any connection with such nonsense.

Copyright © by

Gordon R. Elliston

All rights reserved.

Cover design by

Jeff Elliston

Published by

M A Elliston, 2014. Toronto

ISBN 978-1-300-20620-0

Also by

Gordon R. Elliston

Betsy’s Revenge

The Necromancer

The Headless Coachman

The Gated Community

The Treasure of the Haunted House

Artwork in Short Film

The Woodcarver and The Fiddler on YouTube by Microfilmco

Feature Documentary Film

Associate Producer

Eccentric Eclectic, 2014

THE SEAGULL WORE GLASSES

AUTHOR

GORD ELLISTON

Carneyville is a small northern town about a three hour drive north of the big city. It has a lake on either side and a river running through the north end of it. Carneyville got its name from the fact that most of the carneys you see in the travelling carnivals that visit your neighbourhood come from Carneyville. The population of that little town was only about 301 people but lately it was mysteriously on the decline.

There were a few dogs and an overabundance of seagulls in tourist season that loved to zoom in to steal French fries from the tourists that eat at the local hot dog stand.

A lot of strange things have happened in that little town in the past years and this story tells of a few.

If you were to paddle upstream from town you would portage some minor rapids and eventually come to Sandy Lake. It is a roundish lake about two kilometers across to the far shore. I have spent many years vacationing mostly in the summer months in that area. I have done a lot of hunting in the forest around Carneyville and in the mysterious hills surrounding Sandy Lake. I wasn't hunting animals for food or for their fur like Dan in this story used to do before he had a very bad accident. I was hunting to find the perfect piece of wood to make walking sticks. I like making sticks with human faces or animals of all sorts carved into them. I have sculptured foam, rocks, ice, wood and even a whales tooth. But a walking stick with a carving in it is an art form that invites you to touch.

It all starts with an adventure, hunting for a perfect piece of wood to make a cane or walking stick, one with a bit of style.  The wood for the walking sticks that I make are gathered and cleaned up then dried in the rafters of my small wood shop for about one year.

It is rare to find a stick that is perfectly straight. I place the area that is crooked over the opening of a kettle for about one half hour with a rag covering the bent and steamy area. When the wood becomes soft I straighten the stick over my knee or the edge of a table. If the bent area is at a knot it will be almost impossible to straighten, something to keep in mind before spending a lot of time on the stick. If the bend is not too severe, it might add character to your walking stick.

This seagull cane on the book cover of this book took me about twenty hours to carve and prepare for painting and mount the brass tip. It took another ten hours to paint, varnish and polish. It took that thieving seagull just seconds to steal my glasses.

I don't know why he took them or if he had a reason for taking them but it did inspire me to write this mostly fictional book. It is a story of a place where some people vacation and some people live and some people die. Some thieving, conniving beings that will stoop to the lowest of lows to achieve their goals have made their way into this book. Some of the characters are based upon real people that I have known for many years or longer and they all have a story to tell. After all, truth can be stranger than fiction.

The Seagull Walking Stick

Length:  33 5/8"

Medium: hardwood found at the historic Alma College while on a film location making a horror movie. The beautiful old building mysteriously burnt to the ground when we packed up and left.

Brass cane tip; 1 ¼"

Rubber end:  5/8"

Chapter 1

Hot Summer Days

Chapter 2

Nasty Tom

Chapter 3

Seventeen-Year Locust

Chapter 4

The Resort

Chapter 5

A Day At The Beach

Chapter 6

High Strung Vern

Chapter 7

Camp Fire Doug

Chapter 8

Makkapitew

Chapter 9

Spitball

Chapter 10

Angus With Long Nose Hair

Chapter 11

Crazy Eye

Chapter 12

Fishing Man Fred

Chapter 13

Carneyville

Chapter 14

Trapper Dan

Chapter 15

Morty's Cover-up

Chapter 16

The New Sheriff

Chapter 17

The Hunters

Chapter 18

Cool Clear Water

Chapter 19

Hot Day At The Beach

Chapter 20

Chubby Boys

Chapter 21

Eat A Seagull

Chapter 22

The Circus Rolls In To Town

Chapter 23

Remembering Sheriff Andy

Chapter 24

Tom’s Garage

Chapter 25

Diving Derek

Chapter 26

Bag Of Chips And A Soda

Chapter 27

Morty Returns

Chapter 28

Easy Pickens

Chapter 29

Missing Glasses

THE SEAGULL WORE GLASSES

Chapter One

Hot Summer Days

It was a blistering hot summer day that July 1 weekend in Muskokaville. My wife and I were up north at the lake sitting on the sandy beach watching the seagulls diving for minnows along the shoreline. It was Confederation Day in Canada, a day of camping, barbecues, beer and fireworks, the long weekend everyone waits for. On confederation day we celebrate Canada's 1867 Confederation and establishment of Dominion status.

I had to work the week before but took Friday off to trim my hedges along our gravel driveway. I had planned to get an early start on the hi-way before the cottagers and the commuters plugged up the north bound routes. As I was trimming the foliage an angry black hornet with two white stripes around his abdomen flew out of the bush and stung my hand.

I never realized such a small animal could inflict so much pain. I went in the house and got an ice cube to put on it. The cold ice helped to relieve the pain a little but my hand began to swell in the sting area. I returned with a can of wasp spray foam that wipes out the whole colony. I found the nest in the bush and sprayed it a few times then destroyed it. There were many children that played close to those hedges and I did not want any of them getting stung by those nasty little beasts.

I then finished trimming and cleaned up the debris. I was hoping to be on the road before 10:00 that morning but my hand swelled up like a balloon so I spent the next couple hours in the hospital getting that tended to. With an allergic reaction they usually take you right in and keep an eye on you for a while then give you a shot of antihistamine in your butt and send you on your way.

On these long hot muggy weekends many people from the city would head north to cottage country for a few days or longer. They would leave their air conditioned homes and get into their air conditioned cars or large SUV's or mini vans and head to cottage country where there still are forests. The large trees helped to keep things cooler naturally but a way back, when the immigrants swarmed to North America in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds they chopped down all the trees. They shaved this land from the North Country to Lake Ontario. They used the trees for firewood and for the construction of buildings and boats. They shipped many trees back to the old country because they cut down all of theirs and now we have second and third growth trees in the north.

The temperature was ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit or roughly thirty-six degrees Celsius in the shade. The Cicadas were buzzing their loud summer mating songs in the treetops not far away. The beach is about fifty meters from the water’s edge to the tree line. The trees were filled with Blue Jays, Robins, Humming Birds, Flying Squirrels, Crows and too many more to mention. It was a menagerie of wild life, all seeking shade to escape the hot afternoon sun. 

We had a very large beach umbrella to protect us from the blistering sun and a large beach blanket to keep the tiny sand fleas from nibbling at our ankles. The lake was just a few meters away for a quick dip to bring our body temperature down a little. An insulated water container with ice cubes and a squeeze of lime is a must on days like that and we drank plenty of it.

The only creatures the scorching heat didn't seem to bother too much were the seagulls. They don't run for the shade the way most warm blooded creatures do. Seagulls lift one foot and stand there staring at the people, just waiting for them to let down their guard for even one second then in a flash they will move in and steal their food.

THE SEAGULL WORE GLASSES

Chapter Two

Nasty Tom

On the Friday before the long weekend, nasty Tom who owned Tom's Garage and Towing, that's what the local kids called him, was at Mr. French's hot dog emporium. It was actually a trailer sitting on blocks at the corner of Mainway St. and Sandy Beach Rd just a short distance from Tom's garage. Tom was getting hungry and mean so he locked his garage doors just as young Danny from down the road came pushing his bike with a flat tire. He asked Tom if he could use the air hose to fill his tire but Tom told him to get lost and, Get the hell of my property. Tom then crossed the road and kicked a dog that was barking then walked up the street for lunch.

He ordered a hot dog and fries as he did every Friday. He lit up a smoke while he waited impatiently for his food then started watching the birds zooming in for any scraps that people dropped or threw to them. When Tom's order was ready he put a little mustard on his dog and a bit of salt and vinegar on his fries then sat on a large rock to eat.

There was a small sparrow not far from him that was waiting for a hand out. Tom kicked some dirt at it and told it to get lost, Go eat a worm. The little bird was persistent so Tom picked up a stone and threw it at him. The bird jumped out of the way then chirped some angry bird sounds back at Tom. He got a kick out of that so he threw it a small piece of one of his French fries. The little bird hopped on over and ate it then came very close to Tom. Tom thought about stepping on it but the bird looked in Tom's eyes and chirped so he held out another piece of his French fry. The sparrow then hopped right up on Tom's shoe and took it out of his hand. That made Tom laugh then he held out his hand and the bird hopped on.

He sat his new friend on his knee and put a few more small pieces of fries in front of him. The little bird sat and had lunch with Him. Tom actually smiled that day, something he hadn't done since his wife moved out with another man just six months ago.

Tom petted the small bird and massaged its wee neck. The tiny sparrow sat there making little bird noises. It then flew down to the ground and did a little poo. Tom laughed again and threw a whole french-fry in front of the little bird and it started nibbling