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Steven Slacker Seagull

October 11, 2014


His famous, older cousin got all the attention.

“Oooh,” his family and friends would say, “look how high Jonathan Livingston Seagull can fly!”

Or they would say, “Goodness me, Look how fast Jonathan Livingston Seagull can fly!”

Or “Have you read the book about Jonathan Livingston Seagull? Mine is autographed.”

Steven Slacker Seagull had a copy of the book too. He used it to line his cage back at home.

Steven Slacker Seagull left the pursuit-of-perfection bullshit to his illustrious cousin.

Steven Slacker Seagull liked to panhandle off the various window ledges of the Empress Hotel. Humans would typically make a fuss, call him cute, and toss him food. If the window was open far enough, he’d go right into the room, and, amidst women screaming and men shaking impotent fists, help himself to whatever looked edible.

Steven Slacker Seagull preferred to work the side of the hotel that only had the view of the Nootka Courtyard Shops and puny adjacent parking lot. The humans on that side were view-deprived and took the sight of him as a treat. Most other sides of the Empress offered up views of the harbor and stately Parliament building. A seagull could easily be ignored with all that as a backdrop.

Steven Slacker Seagull knew that the stupid humans he was currently working weren’t going to give him anything. He could tell. “Probably Californians,” he muttered bitterly to himself.

  1. Rich permalink

    think I met Steve Slacker on our last trip to Sana Cruz. He’s one shiftless excuse for a seagull.


  2. Eric permalink

    Neil Diamond wrote a song for Jonathan. Maybe Neil Young would write one for Steve.

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