If you consider 10+ acres, a huge pond and several lovely females a “roasting pan”, then well yes, he is going to heaven.
White duck privilege?
Are you in Oregon? I mean, nobody likes the Oregon ducks …
When I yell DUCK, don’t say, what?
In nature ducks are often violent rapists. Might be some expression of that behavior.
Makes me feel lucky that my neighbor’s pet duck Gizmo is so nice and sweet, to both us and the three chickens my neighbor also keeps.
Don’t you mean ‘fowl’ creatures?
Viaduct? Vy not a chicken?
Just don’t let them get your goose with their shenanigans.
Wouldn’t it be cool if they had a baby. You could call it Chuck.
At the foot of this situation you will find a web of intrigue. Chowder is the one making trouble but it’s Gretchen who is receiving the bill.
Anyone think we need to stop this nonsense? Dewey?
Dewey?
Dewey who?
Do we,
Remember you…
Statler Brothers reference, to save you the trouble.
you people are completely out of control! 
Joe Bob finished dressing and went out the back to feed the animals and check over the house garden before breakfast, as was his habit.
He fed the two horses and watered the veggie patch, then walked over to the duck house to let them out for the day. Straight away the scattered feathers caught his eye.
“Damn it all! What the hell?”
The next thing he noticed was that a corner of the wire mesh of the duck house had come away from its nail, leaving a gap. There were telltale reddish brown hairs caught on the wire. He swore under his breath and started accounting for the ducks. The magpie was gone.
“Jeesus, and the grandkids are coming over today. Lil’ Jessie loved that duck”.
He let the remaining ducks out of the duck house and decided to finish his chores and have breakfast before doing something about the duck house. The crows had been nibbling at the corn again. They’d got particularly bold since he’d broken the frame of his old wood slingshot, and had no way to keep their numbers down.
After breakfast he went down to his workshed to get his hammer and nails to fix the wire back in place. He found his hammer soon enough, but after 15 minutes of looking still hadn’t found the box of tacks. Further away from the house out of earshot of Mabel, his wife, the cursing flowed more freely.
“Fuck me, where in tarnation did I put those tacks?” he muttered. Oh well, he was going to have to go to the store to get another Magpie duck anyway.
He went into the house and Mabel heard the rattle of him picking up the keys to the truck.
“Going down to the store?”
“Uh huh, fox got into the duck house, got the Magpie”
“Oh my! Jessie loved that duck. She’ll be ballin’ her eyes out.”
“I know it. I’m going to buy another, that should keep her happy.”
“Well good because I forgot to buy something to roast for lunch for Jim Bob, Mary and the kids. Get a roast bird from the store, could you now?”
“OK”
Joe Bob started up the truck and headed to Stan’s store, in town. Stan’s was a true old fashioned general store, selling everything from groceries to rabbits to hardware, as well as being the diner and gas station. He pulled up.
Stan met him outside as he got out of his truck
“Mornin’ Joe Bob”
“Mornin’ Stan”
“Looks like we might get rain later”
“Reckon we might”
“How’s things out at the farm?”
“Okay, but could be better, lost a damn duck to that god-damn fox again. The Magpie this time. Got the grandkids comin’ later this morning, and that bird was little Jess’s favourite”
“I’m thinking you’ll be looking for another?”
“Yep, what you got?”
“Hang on, the animals is Jane’s department”, he said, then yelled “Jaaaane! Get outta bed and gimme a hand here.”
The head of Stan’s youngest daughter appeared though an upstairs window. “What’s up, pa?”
“Joe Bob needs a magpie duck, we got one?”
“Nope.”
They explained the situation.
“We’ve got a Pekin, they’re friendly and good with kids, that might do”, she said.
Joe Bob and Stan agreed this was as good a solution as they would find and went inside.
“Anything else?”
“Well yeah, I broke the frame on my slingshot, you got any?”
“Wood or steel?”
“I’m old fashioned, I prefer the wood.”
“OK, I got those, what else?”
“Box o’ tacks”
“Didn’t I just sell you a box a day or two back?”
“Yeah, damned if I can find them though. I’m sure I’ll find em, I only really need the one, but I guess you gotta sell me a box?”
“Ah, it’s OK Joe Bob, for you I’ll just get one out of another box and let you have it”
“Thanks, Stan, I’d sure appreciate that. Oh, now Mabel wants something roasted for lunch, you got any birds on the spit?”
“Sure Joe Bob, you know we always do. OK, so that it?”
“Yep, that’ll do for the day”
“Right now, let me add this up.” Stan got out his notepad from his pocket and his pencil from behind his ear and started writing.
“Y wood, a duck, a tack, a chicken…”
Dear Mary Mother of Jesus.
If you made that up it’s brilliant.
it’s pretty good, actually*
would read the sequel if there is one. 
*my standards are low
No sequels, I’ve got to stop procrastinating and do what I’m supposed to be doing.
A duck walks into a bar and asks, “Got any grapes?”
The bartender, confused, tells the duck no. The duck thanks him and leaves.
The next day, the duck returns and asks, “Got any grapes?”
Again, the bartender tells him, “No – the bar does not serve grapes, has never served grapes and, furthermore, will never serve grapes.” The duck thanks him and leaves.
The next day, the duck returns, but before he can say anything, the bartender yells, “Listen, duck! This is a bar! We do not serve grapes! If you ask for grapes again, I will nail your stupid duck beak to the bar!”
The duck is silent for a moment, and then asks, “Got any nails?”
Confused, the bartender says no.
“Good!” says the duck. “Got any grapes?”