Ducks, the real enemy… hidden in plain site

What is a duck? Seriously.

Have you ever really thought about their origins?

Why should you even care? Why should you give a fu… ll commitment to this topic?

Beware.

Everything seems cool to our most basic optics. But don’t be a fool, for theirs is a world muddied by the cryptic coprophagic behavior of a mental patient escaping through a septic tank filled with contaminated plastics. Or, to put it another way, a duck is a loud maniacal winged menace made from the spare parts of a truck.

Ducks appear to be amorous creatures at first glance. But that’s just so they can “get a little romance, maybe steal a dance” … as what they really love to do is… meet people. They want to eat people. They want to beat sheeple. Some of em’ will even cleat neeples. Then have a long chat with Mario Van Peeples under a church steeple.

Ducks sustain themselves mostly on garbage… human fingers… and hockey pucks. They follow the dark side of The Force and murder at the behest of their leader, Wolfgang Puck. They like nothing more than to turn your nice-looking pond into “filth and muck” (Fletch, as airline mechanic Gordon Liddy) … and to sum it all up in a word… they just kind of… suck.

Ducks come in many shapes and forms.

Giant piranha… disease carrying insects… Republicans.

None of these natural menaces, or is it menacai? Menstrual acai? Whatever… none of these things are comparable with the threat ducks pose to our society. Because they are all of the above and more. Ducks are evil incarnate.

You don’t believe me? Let me ask you something…

Have you ever met a duck?

You would remember the experience, for they are complete and utter buttholes.  

It is a lesson that I learned from a very young age so don’t even try to convince me otherwise. This was back when I was just a Padawan learner. Shit. God damn you, George Lucas – I meant… back when I was just a young naïve farm boy. Collecting moisture vaporizers and drinking my blue milk on Tatoooine… I remember the encounter like it was yesterday. I was just innocently trying to feed a few of the ducks. The ones that I found particularly attractive. Anyway, I was giving them a few scraps from my bone, and from my master’s peanut butter and smelly sandwich… when the next thing I know, one of them attacks me! I was like, “dude, what’s your effing problem, homey?”. You know what the flappy bastard said to me? I will never forget it, too. He looked right in my eyes and he said, “squawk!” at me.  

Right to my face, he says this. Motherfucker. I know. Tell me about it, sister.  

I was so shocked; I didn’t know whether to bite him or to applaud him for his sheer audacity. Anyway, it’s been me against the ducks ever since. Personally, I try to eat a duck at least once per month, so I know I’m doing my part to help reduce their population. Are you doing your part?  We must all do our part. From New York… to London… to Paris… we must all do what we can to stop the growth of these little winged, big billed mofos. Before it’s too late, friends.  

“… Je mange beaucoup de canard. Et je ris toujours apres les avoirs manges.” 

That’s French by the way for: “I always laugh when my belly is full of duck. For when I drink of their blood… I prefer to drink alone. Yeah, with nobody else.”  

French is just one of the things I’ve honed throughout the years. Like my visceral hatred and animosity towards any and all “canards”. Be they “lies” or of the winged spawn of Satan we’ve been discussing here.  

I’m going to spend the next chapter exposing their little evil operation for the whole world to see. Everything else I have to say can wait for now. Even though I am very cognizant of the fact that all (seven) of you readers out there are awaiting more queefs. Those who haven’t bailed on this book yet to go watch a Friends rerun… like The One Where Chandler Pivots Ross’ Sandwich into Rachel’s Butt Crack (or whatever) … you are probably wishing or even praying that I just stay on one topic at a time and just finish the damn “failed queef title” thing I had going there. You probably hope that the queef will just waft away into oblivion. You want to know that there’s an end in sight. Fresh air on the horizon. 

But what you couldn’t have known at first but are probably just now starting to realize… is that the queef is never going to end. Not only is it going to hang around like a cloud over the rest of this book… it’s going to stay with you for the rest of your natural born lives! 

No, you will not be able to escape the “fishy resonance” … the horrible comedic stank that I have dropped on you here. Even years later, when you least expect it, this interminable and utterly repugnant joke will reappear at a very inappropriate time. Most likely, it will go down something like this: you are giving a toast at a very important business meeting… all eyes are on you, including the boss… and then it happens. You raise your glass of wine and proceed to have a brain fart in the form of:

“I would like to raise a toast to all those who have supported me in this venture. Thanks for your time… your commitment… and for bequeefing in me… at a time when many people would have bailed.”

                                                                                                   [you, on your final business trip]

Now… people are looking at you funny and you don’t know why. Your boss is making notes under the table. That can’t be good. What just happened?

You friggin’ queefed - that’s what just happened. If you’re a woman, you might actually start queefing at this point. You might as well. Because you, and your project, are finished. 

Yes, this is just the beginning of your demise. Because this queef… and the joke list I have created about it… are never going to leave you, my friend. You and the queef are now “one”. Together you form a Symbian Circle - life forms living together for mutual advantage. What happens to one of you will affect the other and vice versa.  

Besides… the information I am going to share with you is too important to keep to myself. The message is too urgent to wait any longer. Frankly, there is just far too much at stake here. For when the “flappy ones” come a knocking on your door, will you be ready? Will you be prepared to fight them? Or… will you become just another sad statistic of duck on human violence? Will you be just another victim of a secret organization known only as…