It was a nice day for driving. Bob Marley was still blasting through my speakers still telling me ‘Don’t worry about a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright.” So I wasn’t worried. Like I said, it was a fine day for driving. Or did I say ‘nice’?
Then I saw it. A damn duck deciding to cross right in front of me! I squealed my tires as I came to a sudden stop. Isn’t that ironic that you could maneuver around pedestrians and even hit a few but when it’s a duck, you have to be extra extra cautious? The things can back up traffic for blocks. You don’t want to harm a duck now. So I mentally killed and cooked it up. Mmm, duck soup! The duck turned its head to look at me as if to say, “Sit there and take it like a man! Bitch! Lol!” Yes, it even had the ‘lol’. I contemplated running it over but the duck must have read my mind. “Don’t even thing about it!” The look said it all. “See that guy in the big masculine truck beside you? You run me over and you answer to him.” I glanced over and sure enough there was a big fella with an obviously soft heart watching the bird cross with love in his eyes. He felt my stare and glanced my way. “The duck’s right. Just chill and let it cross, dude.” What? You too big fella? You would take delight in running people over but you sit there and fall in love with a crossing duck?! Your fore-parents would turn in their graves.
As the duck reached the middle of the road, she (I decided it had to be female) decided to rub it in my face even more. She lowered her tail and ejected her load. Yes, she shit right where my tires would travel when I continued my forward movement. The nerve! Asshole! Duck you! The look she gave me said “Eat shit!” Man, this duck was really ruining my nice drive. Shut up Bob! You aren’t exactly helping right now! I shut off the stereo, tuning brother Bob out. Everything wasn’t exactly turning out alright.
It seemed like forever but Miss Thing finally made it across. As she re-mingled with her kind, she quacked something to them and they all gazed in my direction. THEN, they started to step off the curb to re-cross the street! Too bad I wasn’t around to verify this. Again my tires squealed as I peeled away. Duck! I yelled in frustration, the christian in me substituting the F for the D. In my mirror, I could see Mr. Tough Guy still sitting there as if mesmerized.
So why did the duck cross the road? Because she could, whenever and wherever she wants to.