That stupid kid in my cab, I'll never forget him. He just kept going
on and on about the ducks. "Where do they go in the wintertime?" he asked.
Stupid kid, what a moron. You see, he got me thinking about those stupid
ducks by the lagoon in Central Park and where they go when it gets cold.
Normally, dumb stuff like that bores me, but I dunno, this time it's
different. Three days. Three days I've had ducks on the brain. Keep taking
my passengers to the park, even when they wanna leave the city. Three
nights I've missed my beauty sleep thinking about where they go. Not
tonight. I am going to find out where the ducks go in the winter.
I parked my cab a couple hours ago, just outside the park, right in view of the lagoon. That's where the ducks live, you know. I got out and have been sitting on a park bench ever since, binoculars in hand, just watching those stupid ducks. When they fly, I'll see it.
The weather's just right, they should fly any moment. The thing is, though, that they haven't moved, not once. They just keep circling in the lagoon, around and around. I've been watching them, you see. For about seven hours now. It's 3:30 am, and nothing's happened yet.
Dang those ducks! They just circle and circle and circle. Wonder what they're so interested in that they circle like that, around and around. It's so pretty how they circle like that, just like dancers. Dance, little ducks, dance!
One duck has stopped circling. The others just fill in in the little duck dance, taking his place. He waddles towards me, silently. He knows I'm watching! Stupid duck! Always putting his bill where it doesn't belong, but I'll get him. I'll get him.
He is getting close, I don't need the binoculars to see him anymore. He's a green mallard. Never trust a mallard, that's what I always say. He's standing right outside my cab. He hops up and sits down next to me on the goddanged bench.
"Yeah, bub?" I say it cool, real cool.
"Quack," says the mallard, with this cocky smile.
"Oh yeah, bub?" I bet he just cursed me out in duckish. He thinks I don't know what he said! "You know what?" I ask, while I pull my 27-gauge out from my inner coat pocket. "You're despicable." I pull the trigger. He staggers, still smiling at me. The jerk's still smiling at me!
I leap off the bench, tackle the duck. The mallards dead in minutes.
Suddenly, a load of police officers pull up, they point their guns at me. "Sir, please step away from the duck."
***
Now I get to wear a pretty white coat with straps and eat applesauce all day, all because of that dumb kid and his ducks. I think they were working together, that's what I think. A conspiracy against cab drivers, that's what I say. I told Doc all about it last week, and he promises he'll try to take care of it. He says that they will arrest several ducks real soon on conspiracy charges, but they don't know where they are. It's wintertime, you see.
I parked my cab a couple hours ago, just outside the park, right in view of the lagoon. That's where the ducks live, you know. I got out and have been sitting on a park bench ever since, binoculars in hand, just watching those stupid ducks. When they fly, I'll see it.
The weather's just right, they should fly any moment. The thing is, though, that they haven't moved, not once. They just keep circling in the lagoon, around and around. I've been watching them, you see. For about seven hours now. It's 3:30 am, and nothing's happened yet.
Dang those ducks! They just circle and circle and circle. Wonder what they're so interested in that they circle like that, around and around. It's so pretty how they circle like that, just like dancers. Dance, little ducks, dance!
One duck has stopped circling. The others just fill in in the little duck dance, taking his place. He waddles towards me, silently. He knows I'm watching! Stupid duck! Always putting his bill where it doesn't belong, but I'll get him. I'll get him.
He is getting close, I don't need the binoculars to see him anymore. He's a green mallard. Never trust a mallard, that's what I always say. He's standing right outside my cab. He hops up and sits down next to me on the goddanged bench.
"Yeah, bub?" I say it cool, real cool.
"Quack," says the mallard, with this cocky smile.
"Oh yeah, bub?" I bet he just cursed me out in duckish. He thinks I don't know what he said! "You know what?" I ask, while I pull my 27-gauge out from my inner coat pocket. "You're despicable." I pull the trigger. He staggers, still smiling at me. The jerk's still smiling at me!
I leap off the bench, tackle the duck. The mallards dead in minutes.
Suddenly, a load of police officers pull up, they point their guns at me. "Sir, please step away from the duck."
***
Now I get to wear a pretty white coat with straps and eat applesauce all day, all because of that dumb kid and his ducks. I think they were working together, that's what I think. A conspiracy against cab drivers, that's what I say. I told Doc all about it last week, and he promises he'll try to take care of it. He says that they will arrest several ducks real soon on conspiracy charges, but they don't know where they are. It's wintertime, you see.