A Bad Hair day
Pelicanus was having a bad hair day.
(He’s got feathers, I know. Duh, haven’t you ever heard about a figure of speech?) He saw an old Huisgenoot photo of the late Princess Diana at her royal wedding and can’t stop swooning and sighing over the fairy tale.
Pelicanus dreams of hosting a royal wedding here at the Vaalnest Boutique Hotel… and the only descendant of blue blood he knows is me! Heaven forbid that I should tie myself to one birdie if I have almost 250 species gracefully twittering and fluttering around in my custom-designed garden. I don’t trust the looks Pelicanus keeps on giving me.
His gangly pelican legs follow me everywhere and he makes all kinds of
scheming scribbles in a Croxley book covered in pink lace.
His beady eyes beneath his late grandfather’s glasses rest nonstop on me. I can just hear him thinking – “I’ve got to hook Reggie up with a damsel. I’ve got to hook Reggie up with a damsel. I’ve got to…”
Pelicanus even tried to come near me with his measuring tape so he can so long order the wedding suit. I squawked like a silly squaw when I succinctly told him what he could do with said wedding suit. I certainly ruffled his feathers for he flew off muttering something about having to sprinkle glitters on the invites.
You had better keep on reading to hear what dastardly plans Pelicanus has in store for me. Getting married? Me? The most handsome and eligible bachelor bird ever? Not likely. But… Pelicanus had a strangely determined and demented look about him. Should I be worried? Ah, surely not!….. I hope.