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Description

He had been awoken from his slumber as a message had been dropped on his head.
This happened from time to time.
That noisy Scottish cousin of his had seen it fit to tell him something.
And so he had gotten the seagulls to carry the message all the way over to him...
From one lake to another....
Across the ocean....

“How many seagulls does it take to carry a box with a message?”
Heh....

Ok....

Anyway...

He didn't really see the point in these messages.
Truth be told, he would rather have gone without them.
Would rather have been left in peace.

Peace however was a concept wholly unknown to that cousin of his.
He would pepper him with these messages...
And he would have to answer, or he would never hear the end of it...

That time in 1522... when rumours had been spread that they had killed him...
His cousins letters had been more stressful than the harpoons....
Maybe particularly due to the shear multitude of them...
They had just rained in.
Way quicker than he could ever hope to answer them...
As in, practically the second he had managed to send out his assurances, ten more
“Why-don’t-you-answer”s had been dropped at his head...

That was a time he could understand the stress.
It was just that in most of the cases, it wasn’t like that.
In most of the cases it was “hey, I found some cute ducklings”.

....

He was not interested in the ducklings.
By all means, he was sure they were cute.
But he was trying to sleep.

So what was it this time?

“I tried out this new fish, and I really like it!”

....

“Great”, he wrote.
Put it in the box.
Sent it back.

And went back to sleep.

Description

He had been awoken from his slumber as a message had been dropped on his head.
This happened from time to time.
That noisy Scottish cousin of his had seen it fit to tell him something.
And so he had gotten the seagulls to carry the message all the way over to him...
From one lake to another....
Across the ocean....

“How many seagulls does it take to carry a box with a message?”
Heh....

Ok....

Anyway...

He didn't really see the point in these messages.
Truth be told, he would rather have gone without them.
Would rather have been left in peace.

Peace however was a concept wholly unknown to that cousin of his.
He would pepper him with these messages...
And he would have to answer, or he would never hear the end of it...

That time in 1522... when rumours had been spread that they had killed him...
His cousins letters had been more stressful than the harpoons....
Maybe particularly due to the shear multitude of them...
They had just rained in.
Way quicker than he could ever hope to answer them...
As in, practically the second he had managed to send out his assurances, ten more
“Why-don’t-you-answer”s had been dropped at his head...

That was a time he could understand the stress.
It was just that in most of the cases, it wasn’t like that.
In most of the cases it was “hey, I found some cute ducklings”.

....

He was not interested in the ducklings.
By all means, he was sure they were cute.
But he was trying to sleep.

So what was it this time?

“I tried out this new fish, and I really like it!”

....

“Great”, he wrote.
Put it in the box.
Sent it back.

And went back to sleep.