Ducky 9-1-1

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m real.

Last night Matt and I took Abby for a walk. We walked past the library so I could drop off an overdue book. Cause I never know what day it is. Stamping it on a book you want back isn’t going to help. Dude.

Anyhow…

We walked through what’s left of downtown (see pic below).

[This is where I was interrupted by the Squirmadega Car Race on Sesame Street. Dale Wormheart Jr crashed into the laundry basket. Slimy (Oscar’s pet worm) got stuck between Big Bird’s toes and couldn’t finish the race. First Place went to Shawna Wiggleson. And you think I’M weird.]

Back to the walk. We headed for the river. Cause we’re cool like that. Or part Pirate. But we were heading over the bridge when I spotted a duck in the water so I yelled. “HI DUCKY!” (As you do when crossing a bridge.) Just as I said that the little bugger went underwater. So I yelled and Matt looked in the water and saw…

NOTHING.

Awesome.

“There was a duck but he went underwater.”

“Uh huh.” I couldn’t tell if Matt was just thinking I’m weird or remembering that hey, we were heading toward the local psych ward anyway….

“Really! There was a ducky right THERE. He went underwater when I yelled.”

“Uh huh.”

That’s when time dragged out. It stopped. No air moved. Sound was being sucked away in a vacuum of time and space. We walked in slow motion.

WHERE WAS THE DAMN DUCK???

I looked at Matt. Matt was looking at me like I just snorted my M&M’s. (Not that I’d know what THAT looked like. I wouldn’t. No. Totally different story.)

I looked at the river.

NO DUCK.

I looked at Matt and whined, “He was right there. Really. Where did he go? Should we call the ducky police?”

Matt snorted his disdain.

Then I thought if a ducky went missing in the river you wouldn’t call the ducky police. You’d call Ducky Rescue. Ducky 9-1-1.

As my brain was imagining the opening sequences to the new TV shows I’d just invented I looked at the river and the ducky popped back up.

“AH HAH! THERE! SEE? DUCKY!” I was unintelligible in my excitement and rightness. (Meaning I was right about the duck. Not that I’m “right”.)

Matt rolled his eyes and refused to meet my gaze. We took a few steps in silence. I asked, “You’re never going to marry me, are you?”

He shook his head. “Oh hell no.”

Damn ducky.

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6 thoughts on “Ducky 9-1-1

  1. Oh no. I AM A DUCKY LOVER. I will not shoot them or cook them. *turns green*HOWEVER…should this incident ever repeat itself I WILL shoot Matt with a wayward M&M.BWAHAHAHAHAHA

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  2. Don't shoot the Duck… PETA and the Afflack duck will end up at your front door… then your life will really suck, AND Matt still won't marry you… Next time, just walk away and forget the damn duck!

    Like

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