I was walking outside around my work, meandering in my day's activities in a vain attempt to slowly wind down the clock until I can find solace in my miserable life at the bottom of a wine glass, when I saw a duck. Now, no matter what anyone tells you, you never expect to see a duck. I don't care wherever you are, ducks are just one of those little creatures that you never expect to see because they're so odd looking. They have their little waddle, they have their stupid voice, and you look at them and think, "That thing shouldn't exist." At the same time, I always feel a little thrill when I see a duck. Maybe it's because I love Donald and Darkwing, or maybe it's because I just like to say the word duck, but they have an innate quality about them that separates them from other water fowl. Geese? Jerks. Chickens? Stupid. Ducks? Terrifying and endearing all at once, not unlike Ewoks or Earl.
This individual duck was particularly adorable, a little mallard with a lshock of white hair that stood straight up on its head. The duck saw me gaping at him and stopped in his tracks. He muttered a soft sound (seriously, why do they sound like that?) and stared back at me. The two of us stood there, forgetful of our day's activities, and stared. Finally, I narrowed my eyes and whispered, "Fuck you, Ryan Getzlaf."
The duck quacked in response and disappeared down a grassy hill.