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Ducks Chapter 5 25/May/2001

A little insight into the chain of command at our fictional academy.

 

The drawer slammed shut, and the cutlery came alive with the inevitable sound of in-fighting. Everybody hated the tablespoons, for they were not true. When did you last set a tablespoon?

The average cutlery drawer is like an in-bred family. You have a gene pool of about six spoons, so what chance do you have. Eventually, the dull steel morphs; it grows feathers, a plastic beak; it makes strange sounds if you squeeze it; in short, all cutlery is destined to become ducks.

Of course, ipso facto, all ducks come from cutlery. Your good-looking, stately, silver service obviously becomes the kind of duck that, whilst looking like it doesn't know where it's going, is actually plotting to take over the world. As it inevitably will.

However, that peculiarly-patterned teaspoon, with no ostensible relations, will become a fragile duck, an unstable duck, The Head Duck. And if you are such a desolate soul, you must surround yourself with deputies. Immediately below you would be a bona fide upstart, with a fungal growth on his top-bill.

The Head Duck made the huge mistake of employing the fascist Duck of Lanarkshire. He goes around making mad dictats. Some say his quack is worse than his bite. Some say ducks do not have teeth. But they are wrong. Apparently.

Third in line to the throne, is an affable duck. He's not going to take over the world; he's not descended from a crap spoon.

Our old friend, Tim Connery is next. He's what you would get if a turkey-baster were a piece of cutlery. Malodorous, maleficent, a pain. Let's see if I can find a descriptive word for every letter of the alphabet. Arse, bad breath, cu - OK: I apologise. That's not very nice. To make fun of someone who only acts like he does because he's insecure.

Anyway, the Head Duck goes mad (properly this time), burns down the school, and goes on a killing spree. Daniel wakes up. It was all a dream. He gets out of bed and trips over a shoe.

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