Riley's Snack Snakes: A Bizarre Hiss-tory


Duck and his partner Peacock Riley are in the kitchen, surrounded by coiling snakes.
Duck and Riley with Riley's Snack Snakes

Ducks and Chucks,


It’s me, Duck T, your trusty pond manager, writing from the middle of my SNAKE NIGHTMARE.


Now, in some ways, this morning was totally ducking normal: I woke up, wondered where the Bob Marley music was coming from, then went to make my pondweed coffee. Finally, upon opening the fridge, I found a live snake staring back at me. Nothing unusual about that.


(Yes, ducks and chucks, starting the day face-to-face with a refrigerated snake is normal when you’re married to a snake-gobbling peacock.)


Here’s the thing: Usually, when I see said snake-of-the-day, I scream, the snake screams, and the scream-fest continues as I reach for the duck-milk and close the fridge door. But this morning, the first snake I clapped eyes on was one of seven. Yes, SEVEN. And when they all saw me, not one of them screamed. I might as well have been the ducking butler.


It was humiliating. The quackduckery!


Worse still, some of these brazen reptiles were using my leftover bowl of pondweed soup as a ducking swimming pool! Can you quacking believe it? Two of them were sunning themselves on the rim of the bowl, and one was even floating on a ducking inflatable airbed. Plus there was one snake with arms (I didn’t even know they came with arms—I blame global warming) who was drinking a ducking martini with an olive in it.


(Riley’s not going to like the fact that their luxury olives have all gone, but that’s really not breaking news.)


Somehow, the members of this reptilian club had managed to get hold of a miniature boombox. That’s where the Bob Marley was coming from.


When I went to the bathroom and confronted Riley about this, they informed me that while I’d been away at the Waterfowl Inclusivity Conference, Riley had decided to go vegan. But of course, they forgot to tell yours truly.


“Riley did cancel Riley’s daily snack-snake delivery,” Riley explained, as they shampooed their feathers in the bathtub, “but Riley was told the cancellation would take seven days to go through. So what was Riley meant to do with the snake-delivery pile-up? Riley couldn’t set them loose! Think of the neighbors!”


“Why not give them to your peacock friends?” I ask.


Riley was outraged. “All Riley’s peacock friends are snake-eaters, and since Riley has developed a newfound sensitivity towards these flexible reptiles, ‘live and let live’ is the only option.”


So there we have it. Riley’s KEEPING THE SNAKES in the DUCKING FRIDGE! Also, they’ve replaced their daily food supply with these awful vegan snakes that smell like vegetable bouillon.


This duck CAN’T STAND vegetable bouillon.


Now, if you'd like to hear more about this snake-tacular hiss-tory, do sign up for my newsletter. My newsletter family receives original monthly letters direct from yours truly, so they know about me and Riley like no one else. I'd love to have you join us, friend.


This is image invites you to join Duck's friend list and get an original monthly letter from him in your inbox, plus a copy of his book "The Ballad of Sir Mallard and The Salad."

Anyway, ducks and chucks, I will love you and leave you. I hope things on your pond are tickety-boo—or become so very quackly.


Loves ya,

Duck


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