The Anniversary Party
by Michael A. Kechula
Cool Pacific breezes woke Marcia from a chloroform-induced stupor. She moaned when she realized she was tied to a wooden chair. “Where am I?” she mumbled.
“On the beach at Bodega Bay,” said Henry.
“Why am I tied up?”
“To make sure you attend the anniversary party.”
“For who?”
“To celebrate the fabulous movie that was released fifty years ago.”
“Let me go, Henry. You're acting crazy again.”
“Just relax and enjoy the party.”
“But nobody's here. And where's the food?”
"Tied to a chair,” he said.
“Does this have something to do with your favorite movie, Hitchcock's Psycho? Are you making believe you're that loon, Norman Bates? So who am I---his mother? Or the woman he stabbed in the shower?”
“It's not about Psycho. Otherwise you'd be tied up in a motel room shower. Besides, that's not my favorite movie.”
“OK,” she said, “you had your fun. Untie me and let's find a nice restaurant. My treat. Then we can fool around. Whadda ya say? These ropes are hurting me.”
“But if I let you loose, you'll miss the party. And you'll nag me about that like you do about everything else.”
Ignoring her protests, Henry poured a jug of honey over her head. It ran down her face and over her shoulders.
“Stop it, you lunatic! I'm getting sticky all over! Dammit! You musta forgot to take your meds again!”
“Nag, nag, nag,” he said, as he opened a bag and poured the contents over her head.
“Ow. It's getting in my eyes. What is this?”
“Bird seed.”
“Let me go right now! I promise I won't tell the cops or your psychiatrist. Let me jump in the bay to clean this stuff off. Then I'll make you feel real good. For as many times as you want.”
“I can't let you go. I promised them you'd be here for their anniversary party.”
“Who's them? Are you seeing little green men again?”
“Something better,” he chuckled.
Henry put a birdcall between his lips and blew hard.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling our guests. Look...here they come.” Henry raced for the safety of his car, as swarms of squawking birds dived toward them. Landing on the beach, they surrounded Marcia.
Henry was startled when none of the birds approached her.
A seagull flew toward Henry's car. Landing on the hood, he motioned for Henry to lower the window.
“What's going on?” the seagull asked.
“I'm having an anniversary party for you guys.”
“Why?”
“To celebrate the release of my favorite movie, fifty years ago.”
“Which one?”
“The Birds, by Alfred Hitchcock.”
“Never heard of it. Let me check with the guys to see if any of them ever did.”
The seagull flew to the birds, squawked a few times, then returned to Henry's car.
“None of the guys ever heard of that movie,” said the seagull. “What's it about?
“How a bunch of birds went nuts and attacked people. Even little kids. It happened right here at Bodega Bay. It was scary. And very bloody.”
“Sounds goofy,” the seagull said. “None of us would ever dream of doing such a crazy thing. By the way, what kind of bird is that tied to the chair?”
“That's a woman, not a bird.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I'm sure.”
“Hmm. I could swear I saw her flying around San Francisco last week... Well, we'll be on our way. Have a nice day.”
“Aren't you gonna eat the dinner I put out for you and your friends?” Henry asked.
“What dinner?”
“The one tied to the chair.”
“Nah. We're all on diets. Besides, we're not cannibals.”
“Hold on, you freakin' jerk! I spent time, effort, and money to prepare this special anniversary dinner for you guys. And now you tell me you won't eat it? That's a damn insult!” Henry pulled a pistol from under his seat and blew the seagull's head off.
The birds scattered when they heard the gunshot and saw their friend fall to the ground.
The sudden recognition of what he'd done jolted Henry back to reality. He ran to Marcia and untied her. Told her he was just fooling around, that he meant no harm.
Delighted to be free, she jumped into the bay and cleaned herself.
Dripping wet and sitting in the car she said, “You never told me what your favorite movie was. The one you wanted to celebrate.”
“The Birds,” he said.
“Never heard of it.”
“It was that fantastic Alfred Hitchcock movie. The one where a bunch of birds went nuts and started attacking people. Even little kids. It happened right here in Bodega Bay.”
“Sounds goofy,” she said. “None of us would ever dream of doing such a crazy thing.”
“That's exactly what the seagull said. Wait a minute. What do you mean by saying 'us?'”
Marcia slammed Henry's head against the steering wheel. After dragging his unconscious body onto the beach, she made a call on her cell phone.
“Hi Gramps. Did you ever hear of the movie, The Birds?”
“Sure did. I was in it. I played a crazed seagull that tore the flesh off an old lady's face. You shoulda heard her scream. Best fun I ever had. Why do you ask?”
Marcia explained.
“That so? Well, by golly, Henry, was right about having an anniversary party. I'll round up a bunch of the old gulls and sandpipers who were in that movie. We'll be there in an hour.”
Henry woke to find he was naked and tied to the chair. The birds that gathered around him drew lots to see who'd get first taste. Marcia won. She rammed into Henry's face with all her might. The birds cheered wildly when they saw Henry's eye impaled on her beak.
“Happy Anniversary!” the old-timers shouted. Then they finished what they'd started in a movie, fifty years ago.
Share
