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Once again, feeble apologies for goin’ rogue the past week or so.  I’m still mired, but at least I’ve stopped fighting it, and am now allowing the tar pit to peacefully suck me down into its bone-preserving depths.  Unfortunately, I’ve still got to turn this mess in tomorrow — at the latest — whatever its condition, so I should be back in the afternoon, with saberteeth and mammoth tusks for everyone.

In the meantime, I’m passing along a pre-Post-Friday Beast Blogging beast post, borrowed from my friend Laura’s late lamented blog.  Enjoy…

“It’s like looking into the eye of a duck…” – Black Books

So the other morning my mom is like “there’s a duck in the yard.” I go, “What? Why?” And she goes, “It’s a mallard.” (Thanks for clearing that up.) Neighbors were consulted, rescue organizations were contacted, google searches for duck feed were initiated, and an area at the Fort for stray waterfowl was discovered. I even called a friend going, “Ducks in suburbia, what the hizzle?” and she basically said she saw one once and in mid-plotz it flew away and scared the crap out of her. I tried to ask the duck if it was okay and it made grumbly half-quacky noises and started to march around in a little circle. I didn’t know what that meant and my mom and a neighbor had left it water and anchovies so I left. That evening, I drive up and Pinky the Cat is laying down on the sidewalk looking at the duck.

Pinky the Cat: So what’s this shit?

Sam the Cat (from porch): Hi!! There’s a duck in the – I don’t get it – should there be a duck here? Anyway I’ll be over here.

Me: Mom, Pinky’s watching the duck.

Pinky the Cat: That is crazy. It’s like a big bird.

Me: Pinky come here. Let’s go inside. Kitty!

Mom (coming out of house and stepping over Sam): Where’s the duck? Why’d it move?

Duck: Just moving a bit away from this cat. Don’t mind me.

Pinky the Cat: It’s like a big… bird thing.

Mom: Pinky! Leave the duck alone.

Me: Come on, Pinky. Inside.

Sam the Cat: Yeah. Inside. I am so hungry.

Pinky the Cat: I am going to eat this huge bird thing.

Me: Pinky! No. Get away from Hedwig!

Pinky the Cat: The bird is mine! Banzai!

Duck: Oh shit Run away! Run away!

Me: Pinky no!

Mom: Catch her!

Pinky the Cat: This is going to be the best thing I’ve ever eaten!

Teddy the Cat (running toward duck from two doors down): DOGPILE ON THE DUCK!

Mom: What’s Teddy doing here?

Me: Teddy! No!

Duck: I will fly away! I really mean it this time!

Sam the Cat (from porch): Are we not going inside to eat?

Pinky the Cat: Two words: foie gras!

Teddy the Cat: This is awesome! Serpentine!

Me: Teddy, no! Go home, Teddy!

Teddy the Cat: (grumble, grumble, stomp, stomp, stomp)

Duck (flying into middle of street): My feet feel funny!

Sam the Cat: I’m starting to taste metal!

Pinky the Cat: This is like a million times bigger than a hummingbird. Oh sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you! Hey! Let go of my neck skin!

Me: Stop struggling. We’re going inside.

Duck: Whew, grass. AAaahhh better.

Mom (to Duck): Eat the pellets. You’re fine.

Pinky the Cat: Let. Go. Of. My…. HEY! I can’t get the big bird from inside the house, you tool.

Sam the Cat: (takes Xanax)

9 Responses to “We’ve Got A Substitute Teacher Today”

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

That’s all I can say.

Let’s see what the judges have to say. Simon?

“Well, I think that the blog has waited nearly a week and this is the sort of weak-kneed effort we’d come to expect from Scott. One wonders where s.z. is? Scott, I’m terribly disappointed, but I expect the audience will vote you on to the next round anyway.”

We call my friend Stacy “Our Lady of the Ducks” because once when we were driving back to Des Moines from Minneapolis, Stacy called my friend G to say, “Come get your duck out of my pool.”

G said, “What?”

Stacy said, “You work at the airport. There are ducks in the pond at the airport entrance. I don’t know where else there are ducks anywhere near my house. Therefore, you are responsible for the duck in my swimming pool.”

G had her phone on speaker, so I heard both sides of the conversation. I asked, “What I want to know is why your pool is already filled with water in April. It was snowing in Minni when we left, that’s why our flight was cancelled and we had to rent a car. It’s 50 degrees in Des Moines. Are you planning to join the polar bear club? And did you say you had a duck in the pool?” (I was a bit stoned at the time.)

Stacy said, “I now have two ducks in my pool.”

G said, “I’m in a car on I35. Because of several different factors, it took us 12 hours to get to this point from our morning flight out of Seattle. I can’t get the duck or ducks. I don’t care that there is a duck in your pool. Fuck the duck. Deal with it.”

I don’t know what happened to the duck or ducks. Knowing Stacy, she probably got drunk with it and kept it as a skinny-dipping partner.

The End

Yay! My favorite blog post from Laura ever was about Hedwig the Duck! Gleee!

Wait, is that Simon guy really that much of a prick?

I vote the duck post up, yes. If this was Pet Stars, uh, well, I actually don’t know what goes on on Pet Stars because I’ve never watched a whole episode of that either, but I imagine the cats and the ducks would win something, maybe catnip and small gastroliths, I dunno.

We actually do get ducks around here all the time, I quack at them and they generally ignore me, so I dunno what the big deal is with a duck, but it was still funny.

I’m overmedicated again, but I still laughed a lot.

The profound understanding of cat personality evinced in this post is a wonderful antidote for all the vague tsuris I’ve been enduring from Humanity (I’m looking at you, Richard Cheney) the last couple of days. Add Laura’s post to Ida the Fossil Primate, and everything smoothes out nicely.


Rescue organisations? Whatever for? Surely ducks aren’t that rare in suburbia. Don’t you have parks with duck ponds? Or rivers?

I once saw an entire family of ducks (or geese, I really wasn’t sure) wandering around the parking lot at work. We’re nowhere close to water, so it struck me as a little odd. But even more remarkable to me was how orderly the procession was. TYhe two larger ones (the mum and dad, I assumed, walked at the front and end of the line, with the little babies in straight line between them. They seemed to know exactly where they were headed-the even seemed to know to avoid cars.
As I watched them get out of sight (to where, I don’t know), I was struck by one thought:
“They’re better behaved than the customers I see here!”
It also seemed as if their little excursion was some kind of field trip.

My cat brought an adult wood duck through the kitty door unhurt one day. Hilarity ensued. Evidence:


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