“…boy, I sure am an awed duck.”
His customers tried to make off with the echo, but the duck said, “Leggo my echo! I have to call my quack to tell him the good news!”
The duck picked up the phone and gave his doctor a quick wing. He learned to his surprise…
…after running several tests that his quack was indeed up to snuff. But after quacking so much from jumping through all those hoops, he had a frog in his throat.
The moral of the story is: never jump through too many hoops or you’ll be a croaky mallard.
Of course, after that, the duck was a little horse…
…but only for the costume party. Afterwards, he went out for some of his favorite beignets and tourists, but got sidetracked by one of his other favorite haunts: a store that specializes in donuts and out-of-towners. After munching on his favorite treats (plus a special delicasy of a wag telling the joke about getting down from a duck), he decided that he would visit his favorite park to haunt, where he would take part in his favorite activity which was…
…qvacking at the female ducks in the pond. Oh, how his heart yearned for the one white-feathered tuft-tailed mallard by the trees! But she never looked–or paddled his way–until one day when…
…he was watching his reflection and singing his favorite rock song, “You’re So Vain”, she fell in lust with his Jagger-like rubber-lipped beak. She sidled over to him, giving him a little kiss on the quacker and said…
…"my mother said I should only give my love to a swan. When I told her you made my beak twaddle, all she could do was scream “why a duck??” Her mom would never understand, so together they packed off together to…
New York City, where our talented duck teamed up with noted Broadway composer Andrew Lloyd Webfoot and wrote a hack musical called QUACKERS.
Duck & Mrs. Duck and Mr. Webfoot were astonded on Opening Night when…
…gaint dancing Saltines pranced onto the stage.
Claiming that the Dancind Saltines were derivitive of the Dancing Cigarette packages from 50’s TV, Phillip Morris decides to sur the Ducks for…
$500,000 for copyright infringement. In an instant, our Duck realized what he had to do. He had to destroy Phillip Morris corporate headquarters. But he couldn’t let his Mrs. Duck or Mr. Webfoot know about it, because they would certainly stop him. So he…
…flew to a little-known wildlife refuge in Minnesota and dug from the depths of the pond an ancient Turkish oil lamp he had inherited from an old coot many years ago. He wiped the muck off and began to burnish the lamp with swift strokes of his aching wings. In a moment, just as he had expected…
[hijack]Thank Og someone asked “why a duck?” I can now sleep peacefully tonight.[/hijack]
…Disney Studios had released a movie introducing a new concept, a sequel to not one, but two movies, “Aladdin” and “The Mighty Ducks.” Thereby saving Disney time and money, and getting the weak-stomached to flock to the drug stores to buy a new over-the-counter medicine introduced - not coincidentally - the week before.
At the local drugstore, Drake Mallard met his old flame, Pinney Feathers. “Say, it’s great to see you’re no longer penned up. How are they flyin’, Pinney?” …
“Hey, I’m down with the whole thing. Duck actors have been ignored for far too long”, opined Pinney. “Winged migration was a revelation, inspiring all birdfolk to come together. I’m headed for the ‘million duck flap’ in DC next week. How 'bout you?”
“Sure thing,” said Drake, however his decision to go to DC was ill-conceived. Upon arrival, he was quickly taken into custody by two protesters who were actually IRS agents, posing as decoys in the crowd. It seems that Drake had submitted non-business related bills on his tax form, and rather than using an accountant, had elected to wing it himself. The most damaging piece of evidence was his tax forms, reflecting way too many de-duck-sions. Faced with the propect of prison time…
He quickly pecked each agent where it mattered and quickly ducked as they toppled into each other. Then he beat feet to the airport, where the first flight out happened to be to New Orleans. As he received his ticket, he got the sense he was being tailed, so he surreptiously headed to the nearest newsstand and hid himself behind a copy of the Daily Merganser…
The cops, however, sensing fowl play, searched the web and located him on a security camera. Hiding in a nearby blind, they were able to nab the wayward bird. “Paddling’s too good fer ya, ducky”, snarled one of the cops dressed in urban camouflage. “We’re takin’ ya down to the station for grilling.”
Upon transporting our feathery hero to the aforementioned station house, the duck was pressed.
He eventually gave up his conspirators. One can only be pressed so hard, before one goes crispy .
Just in time was he pressed. The creases in his trousers looked dreadful! However, the shrewd public duckfender uncovered procedural errors in the state’s case, namely that Drake was never read his Miranduck rights, and that his confession had been improperly recorded on duck tape without his knowledge or consent, thereby saving him from the hot water which would have led to duck soup. Case dismissed.
Stepping from the courthouse a free duck, he smiled and looked across the park and saw…
But it was only a dream! He was in N’Orleans! The Big Easy! A chance to get down…down to the levee. There the soft, wet mud was, ahh, a little sensuous. He couldn’t help it. As the mud bubbled and oozed between his webbed toes, he began to rock back and forth, faster and faster, singing, “It’s a treat to beat your meat in the Mississippi Mud.”
Suddenly…
Suddenly a bedraggled-looking man approached Drake.
“Hey, mac,” said the man with a twitch in his eye, “Got any change?”
Drake looked the man up and down. His bluejeans were torn and stained with what looked like paint primer. He wore a green jacket faded by the sun. His brown hair and beard were streaked with blond and what looked like…
“Is that egg in your beard?” Drake asked.
“Maybe, man, it’s been a while since I ate. Got any change?” The man held out a quavering hand.
“Nah, beat it, quack-head.” Drake beat his wings and took off to find a nice perch on which to do some sunning.