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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!
Loves ya,
Duck T.