Does he look innocent?

Because he’s not.

Today, I hung out at Granville Island with my mom. We had a Mom-Daughter day. I love spending time with her.

Another thing we love?

Chinese food!

Granted, it’s not always authentic, correct cuisine. Sometimes it looks like it’s coated in jam or shellac or lip gloss.

But, damn. That’s some tastiness.

So, today, while hanging out, we decided to get two plates of the good stuff and sit outside, along with our Snapples and the ongoing conversation about decorating my apartment and why I’ve become obsessed with pink and brown or pale blue and brown colour combinations in all my personal environments.

We got our food.

It looked AMAZING.

We left the building.

Ten feet out of the door, I was attacked by six of the largest seagulls you’ve ever seen. The crowd around us on benches and boardwalk gasped and screamed. My mother ran to the side with her plate.

They a) took off with my chicken balls in their beaks; b) knocked my chow mein to the cement; and c) gathered all the birds in the world — starlings, crows, pigeons, probably a flamingo — to pick at my ginger beef on the ground.

I was so shell-shocked that I just kept walking. And we walked all the way to a bench thirty feet away, where we shared my mother’s lunch. I said, “Shit.” about twenty-two times. People dropped by with condolences.

Then, only moments later, my mom bought me a small, pink vinyl hippo.

We named her Polly.

Polly Vinyl.

Get it?

I WANT MY LUNCH BACK, YOU MANGY BASTARDS.