Wednesday, September 13, 2006
the duck that didn’t quack
The bits of bread thrown into the water bobbed once, never more than once, like a leaf floating to the ground, sank in a lulling rock-a-by motion. Bottom grime hor'dourves for the carpy cousins.
From two stones throw away, a single mallard, of the green headed male specimen paddled closer to investigate. His actions and diversion did not go unnoticed. Geese, two swans, six white ducks and a smaller black bird with a red beak immediately stopped playing with their jacks, yo-yo’s, and Sudoku. What was greeny up to and what is that land lubbin boy buffoon doing so close to the shore. In a mad dash, like paparazzi chasing Brad Pit and the mystery girl, they swarmed and beheld, with their beady black eyes and one red beak, a gallon ice-cream container full of dehydrated fermented morsels being scattered like chicken feed . It is their manna from heaven. The solitary mallard never saw what hit him, the purse, a brick, the old crane’s walker, the frenzy had begun and he was in the way.
That’s what might have happened had I not come to work today.