The Things We Do for Love

Pyser walked along a beach at dawn. He heard the cries of an injured seagull. It was entangled in strips of plastic. The seabird’s left wing seemed broken.

If he saved the bird’s life, he could tell his girlfriend what he had done. She wanted to break up with him and this kind act might change her mind. He could say to her, ‘I did this because I love animals the same as you.’

And they would kiss.  

Pyser kneeled to remove the plastic. Once free, the seagull expertly pecked out his left eyeball. It flapped its wings and flew into the sky.

Only the pebbles, seaweed and ocean heard Pyser scream. He knew that an eyeball could not be replaced as easily as a lightbulb. He unzipped his jacket and shoved it against the empty socket. With his other hand, he fumbled for his mobile and saw a text message from his girlfriend.

We’re finished. I’m blocking you. Don’t bother replying.

He tried to dial 999.

The battery died.

Like a cyclops Lawrence of Arabia, he dragged himself across the stones and sand dunes. He was relieved to find a car park, where a lady in a uniform stepped out of a van.

“Help me,” he said.

The woman was from the RSPCA. “You haven’t seen an injured seagull by any chance?”

“Take me to hospital.”

The woman pointed to the letters on her jacket. “Animals only, I’m afraid.”

“But…”

“Now, have you seen that seagull?”

“It ate my eye.”

“You shouldn’t feed wild birds,” she said, heading onto the dunes like a female Omar Sharif.

He found a road and walked.

The guilty seagull was actually circling above his head, crying out about how it never realised human eyeballs tasted like fresh oysters.

Pyser wondered if his girlfriend might love him for the sacrifice he had made trying to save the bird. It was also a well-known fact that women found eye patches on young men incredibly sexy. It spoke of heroism, with subtle hints of subterfuge and spymaster cunning.  

More seagulls circled above him as he walked, wheeling and dive-bombing his head.

Pyser came to a crossroads. He lay down on smooth tarmac. There was the sound of a siren. He watched the wheels and fender of the ambulance hurtling towards him. The lady from the RSPCA must have called for assistance.

The driver of the ambulance was arguing with his wife on speakerphone about whether or not she loved him. Many people in relationships across various countries and time zones were having the same row in different languages. The driver didn’t see Pyser on the road and ran straight over his body.

It was the end for Pyser. The driver understood this, as did the seagulls. The seabirds darted downwards, racing each other to see who could eat his remaining oyster eyeball first.

Pyser knew it too. He whispered to himself, "These are the things we do for love."