Once upon a time, there was something that was totally, totally not a duckling.
No, that’s a crap way to begin a story.
Ever since he had hatched out of his egg, Chauncey had dreamed of being a duck. But the other ducks made fun of him. “You can’t float on the water,” they said, “and your feathers are tiny and hard and purple and don’t drive off the rain at all!” Oh, how they quacked at Chauncey. Each morning, Chauncey, who was pretty sure he was a duck, he had a mommy duck and a daddy duck, and hatched out of an egg after all, looked at the morning sun and said, “Maybe this is the day my bill comes in!”
Instead of lovely webbed feet he had scaly toes and sharp little claws, and instead of a lovely, melodic “Quack Quack!” Chauncey could only go “SCREEEAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!” and emit a beam of atomic fire. After the latest conflagration, his brother and sister ducks said, “You can’t even quack!” Go away, Chauncey!”
And he did. He went far away to the opposite side of the pond. And Chauncey stayed there, crying a single, mildly acidic, tear. He stayed there until the hunter came to the pond! Oh, the other ducks quacked and scattered and flew, but the hunter’s guns went BOOM! and his momma duck fell from the sky, her wing broken. The ducklings wouldn’t help her, they flew in circles, not knowing where to go. Up? South?
So, Chauncey knew that it was time to be a brave duck, and he waddled his most intimidating waddle, and went up to the hunter, and quacked, “SCREEEAAAAGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!” And then there was pretty much nothing but the hunter’s boots, some smoke, and a genuinely freaked out labrador retriever.
Then Chauncey blew the hell out of the ducks that made fun of him, and leveled Tokyo.
Savers on Burnet and North Loop, Austin
6 Responses to “The Dubious Little Duckling”
I know that Savers. It is indeed a crap Savers. You will harvest much there.
What a nice bedtime story. Will have some odd dreams tonight. Thanks!
do you rearrange your finds or do you merely describe them as you find them?
Hi! Sometimes I’ll shift things around for a better angle, but if I’m making fun of a collection of things because of their position it’s always just as I found it. Thrift journalism has very strict ethical standards!
Chauncey was indeed a very mixed up duck. Maybe that came from living the way he did amongst geese. Oh, well.
What a great story! I’m going to print it out, and read it to the kids who live at the local orphanage! They’ll love it, I’m sure!