Pelicans talking in the Car

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She glanced around her as the pelicans talked to each other in the car and wondered if maybe she should call her Grandmother and ask her advice...

She glanced around her as the pelicans talked to each other in the car and wondered if maybe she should call her Grandmother and ask her advice. She would know. Grandma would. She always knows the answer to difficult questions. Like, why are there Pelicans in her car? She is not even living anywhere close to the beach. As a matter of fact, this is a mountain they are on.
I need to fess up to you all. She is me. I am sitting in this fucking car and the pelicans are talking. About me!! I am turning to them and I am pissed. What are you doing in my car? Who invited you anyway? I didn’t.
Maybe I did. Can’t remember now. Talking Pelicans have been my favorite for a long time. But they usually say nice things about me. Like “look, what a strong swimmer she is!!” Stuff like that.
But I should have known. The one time, I was swimming in the ocean and ran headfirst into the only other swimmer in the ocean, they said some pretty shitty things about me. Like “she must be blind as a bat - or stupid…” They actually were using other words but I am too embarrassed to tell you.
Yes, the ocean is big, but why did that guy have to swim in the same part as me? It is not easy to see anything when the waves are bobbing up and down. He could have worn a red cap at least - or yellow. But blue. Ocean blue! How am I supposed to see him?
I did mention that I am actually blind as a bat - kind off - and am swimming in this part of the ocean because I can see tall buildings along the shoreline? It is like a bay, land and cliffs and trees and houses on three sides.
Only one way to the open ocean and I am not ready to swim that way yet.
That, I will do when the pain becomes too much. Swim and swim until I can’t move my arms anymore.
But that is for later.
The pelicans are calling me a dumb blond. How do they know that? I have dyed my hair black for years!! Hair, eyebrows and all. Blondes live a dangerous life in these parts.
Too many predators. That is what my grandma told me the last time I called her.
Maybe I should try it again. But those calls do cost a lot these days. It was so much easier when she was still alive and there was such a thing as the telephone. But that was a long, long time ago.

This is a freewrite after this prompt that was taking from one of our fabulous freewriter's story. Find her blog @snook

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All images are my own unless otherwise cited.

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