Ducks and Chucks,
I had always assumed that Sir Mallard Jones, my best frenemy, just quacked around in his castle all day, not really doing a duck of a lot, except for organizing the occasional charity gala. But on Saturday, when Mallard and I were sharing our usual pondweed-sushi platter, he revealed his secret career as a me-preneur. Thanks to my new d-Phone recording app, here's a transcript of our discussion:
Duck T: So Mallard, what exactly is a me-preneur?
Mallard Jones: Old chap, let me give an example: You've heard of humbugs, yes?
Duck T: The peppermint-flavored candies, yes?
Mallard Jones: Well, being a me-preneur, I decided to invent my own pondweed-flavored peppermint humbugs. I called them dumbugs, because obviously I am a duck. And I also decided to not let anyone else know about them.
Duck T: You created a whole new type of candy and then didn't sell it? More to the point, you didn't offer me, your very best frenemy, a single suck?
Mallard Jones: Not only did I not sell my dumbugs, but I also told no one about them. Even my trusty servants—including Duckly Darling, who massages my flippers each night in an inviting, sensual way—did not get so much as a sniff of my new invention. And that's what makes me a me-preneur.
Duck T: Mallard, that is totally beak-brained!
Mallard Jones: Language, old boy, please. There may be ladies, royals, MMA wrestlers, and non-binary people present.
Duck T: Sorry. But look, surely the more evolved side of entrepreneurship is the inventions and innovations that great entrepreneurs share with the world?
Mallard Jones: Ah, but this, my trusty feather-sack, is me-preneurship. It's a different cup of Earl Grey. This me-preneur simply locks himself in a room like a gentleman scientist, potters away inventing things, and then keep those things to himself entirely, never sharing them with anyone else.
Take, for example, my hot-balloon elevator. I invented it when the castle elevator broke down. (I do have a lot of staircases at the castle, not to mention the number of hallways I need to shuffle along before I reach the West Tower Loo.) But now, I float myself there whenever I need to do a number one. It's all very romantic. The views are quite sublime.
Duck T: Just for number ones, you say? You don't use the balloon to get to the bathroom when you're doing a number two?
Mallard Jones: Well, the stair-climbing is rather good for keeping my bowels mobile. I start my ascent when I have a slight urge, and by the time I've climbed all those staircases and reached the pot, I am truly ready for greatness.
Duck T: And that, ducks and chucks, is why you should never ask personal questions.
Mallard Jones: Actually, I have an invention for getting rid of ducks who ask personal questions, too, though I need to stress that this is completely unavailable to anyone except myself.
Duck T: *Quacker-sigh* Go on.
Mallard Jones: I call this invention the "Stinker Flower." One takes one of those squirty flowers that clowns use in their circus acts and fills it with a mixture of Brut aftershave, over-diluted pondweed jello, and talcum powder. As soon as some twit asks an overly personal question, one just gives them a squirt. It's staggeringly effective because they never stay to listen to the answer.
Duck T: Totally ducking quackers. I'm just glad you don't have one with you to demonstrate.
Mallard Jones: More's the pity, old chap.
Well, there we have it, folks. Me-preneurship. It keeps a far-too rich, titled mallard busy, and stops the rest of us from sampling dumbugs.
Hope you're all skimming the pond with your happy flippers, ducks and chucks!