True story.

I was sitting in a bar, next to my galfriend J, and a seagull came and attacked us out of nowhere. (This beautiful and violent seagull was white and had glittery wings, so naturally I named it Edward.) Edward swooped down and aimed for my hair, and started plucking the strands one by one. My arms were thrashing about frantically, trying to swat the darn thing, and the bird squawked and dropped feathers as it flew around the place, looking for an exit. The place was a flurry of white plumage and people scrambling around, trying to avoid the creature from landing on their heads and suffering an unimaginable fate by seagull. Amidst the chaos, my eyes opened up to find an opening in the wall, an escape from the disorder in society and respect between humans and fowl, and I forced myself though the crowd to reach the glorious window, the one which promised us all hope, and I opened it. And then the bird consumed us all.

I was extremely bored. Forgive my drug-influenced story-telling; you try and do something better than this from the top of your head at 11:18 at night with homework to do and hunger to stifle. :P