Ding, ding, ding.
An ornery old goat of a farmer named Eustace Bagge stepped into a nameless, cheap dining joint with a bow-legged gait. Above his head, a small golden bell ceased its brief chiming and he allowed the entrance door to swing closed behind him. He had finished making a call on a nearby payphone and was ready to put something on his stomach before heading back to his farmstead. He ran his thumbs up and down the straps on his suspenders and slowly surveyed his surroundings to take in the features of the empty establishment. Mostly empty, anyway, save for a weird creature sitting on a bar stool at the counter. He watched as the freak munched on a small hamburger while reading the local Nowhere paper.
"This town won't made for men like me," Eustace purposely groaned loudly, though the creature at the counter didn't pay him any mind. The old farmer had encountered many freakish inhabitants during his long years in Nowhere, and truthfully this particular freak certainly didn't bother him as much. He'd seen the living dead, swamp monsters, and even space aliens. A lousy duck with a taste for ground beef was about as strange to him as a hangnail.
Finally deciding to move away from the entrance, Eustace headed over to a bar stool a comfortable three seats down from the feathered freak. Giving a final pluck at his suspenders, he grabbed the edge of the bar and took a load off. He swiped a menu from the surface and opened it up, complaining to himself about how minuscule the writing was under his breath.
"Well if it isn't my wife's favorite customer!" a disgustingly large pig monster greeted as he advanced into the dining area from the kitchen.
Eustace glanced up from his menu as the monster laid its swine mittens on the other side of the counter. Contrary to the mutant duck a few seats down that wore only a bow tie, the freak that owned the establishment had the common decency to wear clothing and an apron.
The farmer stared at the grinning pig man's face through his glasses and maintained his grimace.
Still, it was another freak. A nice freak, but a freak all the same.
"Does that mean I get a discount?" Eustace asked bluntly. He didn't know what this wife business was about, but he wasn't the type to turn down a chance to take advantage of someone else's kindness.
"It sure does, friend! Jean Bon never forgets a face!" the kindly pig man snorted out before grinning. "Especially not one that plucks at my wife's heartstrings like yours!"
Eustace wrinkled his nose a bit and slapped the menu against the counter.
"Then I'll take the biggest burger you can fit on a plate, friend!" he replied with a toothless and gummy half-open grin.
Even Eustace knew how rotten his attitude always was, but he was trying to be polite for once to one of these freaks. Every time he tried, however, it always felt false to him. Too many years yelling insults and glaring with disdain at his wife and the stupid dog were to blame, he figured. Besides, it did cross his mind that his sad attempt at politeness was wasted on whatever this thing was supposed to be.
"I'll sizzle it up nice and good just for you!" the pig man oinked out. The swine thing lifted its mitts off the counter and laid them against its belly before letting off a chuckle. "Be out in a jiffy!" it added before turning on its hooves and making back for the swinging doors to the kitchen.
"Le Quack requires le chef to refill his glass with le fresh pomegranate juice!" the mutant duck called over from its perch. Eustace observed as the freakish fowl lifted its empty glass in the air and shook it around without taking its eyes off of its newspaper.
"I'll bring out a pitcher once I put some patties on the grill, friend!" the pig man replied before disappearing into the darkness of the kitchen. Seeming pleased with the response, the mutant duck sat its glass back onto the counter.
"Freaks out here always playing pretend at being people," Eustace grumbled to himself as he slid his menu away, his familiar grimace returning to his mug. To the farmer's surprise, the mutant duck paid attention to this quiet complaint and leveled a stare at him.
"And it is always you with these insults, monsieur!" the mutant duck sounded off while wagging a wing at him. "This is why you fail and why Le Quack shall always rise again!" it criticized with a stern expression.
"Don't know what that means but mind your own business, pal," Eustace ordered as he crossed his arms tightly.
"Minding the business is Le Quack's specialty," the mutant duck retorted. The freak grinned at him strangely and narrowed its eyes, clearly taking some unknown pleasure out of this small exchange. To Eustace's relief, it soon tore its eyes from him and back to its newspaper.
One lesson that drilled itself into the old farmer's mind during his time in Nowhere was to never press the freaks too much. He'd made that mistake too many times in the past. Couldn't help but belt out a few insults naturally, but if the freaks got too riled up, he knew he'd be in trouble. At that point, better to act like he didn't know a thing about anything to off load the pressure than to put investment in whatever hullabaloo the strange inhabitants of the county had in their heads.
"Here comes a refill of the good stuff on the house!" the pig man announced with gusto as he reappeared from the dark kitchen with a pitcher sloshing to the brim with red liquid. Not having anything better to do while waiting for his burger, Eustace watched as the pig man carefully filled the mutant duck's glass up with juice.
"Manners and class such as this belie the quaintness of your établissement," the freaky fowl complimented, immediately snatching the glass as soon as the pig man finished filling it.
"Like I tell every customer, Jean Bon loves a small group of familiar faces than a packed hall of strangers!" the pig man bellowed before lowering the pitcher and jabbing a ham mitten over at Eustace. "Take my wife's favorite meat model! Always love it when he stops by for a late supper!"
A pair of ace freaks staring at him. That usually didn't bode well, but the farmer was thankful that between the duo, the pig man seemed hospitable enough.
"I don't model no meat or care about your wife," Eustace snapped, his arms still crossed. The monstrous pig appeared taken aback by the admission, clasping the pitcher of juice between both of its cloven hands.
"Are you trying to be modest?" the pig man asked in a tone denoting total confusion. "Or is that pooch you're always in here with a seeing eye dog?"
At the mention of his least favorite canine on the face of the planet, the farmer was tempted to forget his earlier thought about not pressing freaks. He stifled it best he could, though his own pride was always a tough enemy to spite like that.
"That stupid dog couldn't help a chicken cross the road," Eustace replied plainly before uncrossing his arms and staring across the bar at nothing. This was a load he didn't want to bear, so he was choosing to ignore it.
"Not many things I don't get, but count this as one of 'em," the pig man complained while scratching at its droopy ear with a hand hoof.
"Hoo hoo hoo, le chef should get used to theatrics such as this," the mutant duck interjected. It carefully placed its newspaper and glass onto the counter surface before grinning up at the pig man. "The farmer has the memory of a dying stuck pig!" it insulted while rubbing the tips of its wing feathers together as if they were fingers.
"That's a shame, but Jean Bon can cater to anyone!" the pig man related before cheering up. "Old folks with memory problems are a part of anyone too!"
Taking the mutated monster's words as a jab at him, Eustace let off a raspy laugh and spun on the bar stool to face the two freaks once again. He didn't know whether it was the empty stomach he was running on or being all by his lonesome, but he had finally given into the temptation. It was time to press these freaks at long last.
"You gonna let him insult you like that?" the farmer questioned the pig man. "I bet getting stuck was how your piggy mama went out!" he said brazenly.
The two freaks blinked at him.
"The Bon family has always been pretty big-boned, friend!" the pig man squealed out. "Piggy was a term of endearment my papa called my ma! Surprised you know about that!" it explained between inhuman snorts.
"What kinda pig pen did you crawl out-" Before Eustace could go on, the fowl freak wrapped a wing around its glass and stared up at the pig man.
"You are, how do you say, thicker than tree stump molasses," the mutant duck jeered with a gibbering quack before splashing the remaining contents of his beverage against the pig man's apron. "You should clean your personage of that filthy fruit!" it recommended tepidly.
"Don't worry yourself over the spill! I've gotta spare apron in the back!" the pig man grunted before turning away, though it still seemed lost in a haze of confusion. "I'll check on the patties while I'm at it!"
Eustace and the mutant duck both stared after the pig man until it was safely out of sight in the kitchen again.
"So, you wish a duel of words?" the mutant duck dared before slamming its glass against the counter and sliding off the end of its stool. Its webbed feet landed with a dry slap on the tiles of the restaurant.
The farmer had pressed the freak, and he had to either weather the consequences or collapse under the load.
"The only thing I wish is for a big steaming burger to appear in front of me!" Eustace barked back as he swiveled to face the bar. Weathering it was hard, and his real wish was that the freaky duck would forget he ever opened his mouth.
To his dismay, he instead heard the tell-tale sound of the mutant duck's webbed feet plucking against the tiled floor toward him.
"Qu'est-ce que çest? Do you not know that you speak to Le Quack?" the mutant duck questioned as it stopped directly next to him. Though the farmer continued to face the wall behind the bar, he could feel the freaks eyes boring into the side of his head. "Ah, but of course you do not! Hoo hoo hoo, your head is as empty as Nowhere is!" the feathered freak jeered up at him.
"If you ain't over here offering to pay for my meal, you should beat it back to your seat," Eustace demanded gruffly, drawing his head closer to his chest and gripping the end of the bar.
"Oh? Has the farmer forgotten his wallet as well in his hasty patronage?" the mutant duck asked further. Eustace could see a cunning grin of clean white teeth clenched between its bill out of the corner of his eye.
His worry and fear was growing at a rapid pace, and he didn't know if his heart could take the load. Whatever this freak was planning, it couldn't be good for him.
"I got me wallet, and you got your seat," Eustace answered rather directly. "Go flap over to it."
He saw one of the mutant duck's wings disappear behind its back. It used the other to rub at the bottom of its bill. The farmer knew the reckoning was here. The load had bottomed out and was about to crash upon him.
"You may not know whom you deal with, but Le Quack remembers every deal! No matter how small!" the mutant duck cajoled before drawing an ice pick with a wicked eight-inch steel shaft from behind its back. "And you are unlucky, for Le Quack requires your small bit of pocket change for le bus out of town!" it quackled out insanely as it lifted the ice pick above its head.
Ding, ding, ding.
"Stop right there, Le Quack!" the firm voice of a police officer commanded from behind Eustace and the deranged freak of nature. The mutant duck was momentarily stunned, but soon spun around to face the interloper standing by the entrance. "We have you surrounded so don't move a muscle!" the officer ordered the feathered fiend.
Eustace did a quarter turn in his bar stool and watched the stand-off with a sideways glance.
"How can this be?" the mutant duck squawked as it held out its ice pick defensively toward the pistol-packing law enforcer. Its head whipped around the establishment. "There is but one of you and one of me! That does not add up to, how do you say, the definition of being surrounded!"
Instead of acquiring an answer from the police officer, the mutant duck's inquiry was answered by scores of heavily armed policemen bursting through every window of the diner in a thundering explosion of glass and pointing their weapons directly at it.
"That is more like it," the mutant duck uttered drearily before dropping its dangerous tool to the floor to join the jagged shards of glass around its webbed feet.
"Cuff him, boys!" the police officer by the entrance commanded. A raging blur of men in blue charged forward and went to work restraining the mutant duck, one of them twisting a pair of handcuffs around its wings.
"Lady luck has made it Le Quack's unlucky day after all!" the mutant duck cursed while locking his eyes onto the glasses resting on Eustace's face.
"I don't care about whatever lady you needed bus fare to go see and I don't care about you. I just want my burger," the farmer responded sourly to mask his relief at avoiding being horribly mangled yet again by yet another freak.
Not caring about anyone. The ultimate way to take a load off. He hardly even cared about himself, and it always seemed to work out. Just as it was working out now.
"You should care more about your blessings!" the crazed mutant duck wheezed at him as it was wrestled to the floor by the police. "Wait until Le Quack comes back! Then you forget my visage and you will be my mark to con!" it honked with ferocity before being forced flat on its belly by an officer.
"The Nowhere Police Academy Department thanks you for calling in about this criminal mastermind," a policeman congratulated while walking toward Eustace. "We're all going to get commendations and pay raises from the chief with him back behind bars, and that means you more than earned the bounty." The officer placed a wad of money into his hand, and the mutant duck let its bill drop open to the floor in befuddlement.
"Bah, I've always known who you were, Le Quack," Eustace revealed with a gummy smile to the handcuffed fowl. "Like I said, I just don't care."
That was the truth. He didn't care about anyone. Whether they be generous piggy monsters like Jean Bon and his wife, highfalutin ducky freaks like Le Quack, or even his own family when it came right down to it.
However, he couldn't say he didn't care about anything. He did care about money, and that was a load he could bear with a grin.