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Ducks and Chucks,
Today, after witnessing a dreadful littering incident, this duck has decided to invite the Pond CEO Goose Luce, who also happens to be my boss, onto the Chuckle Duck blog.
Goose Luce is a very interesting bird, not least because she only says the words "Goose Luce." However, if you relax your mind, a bit like you're looking at a Magic Eye painting, you'll hear what she's saying no problem. It's like having an internal subtitling system. Here we go:
Duck T: Goose Luce, welcome to the Chuckle Duck blog.
Goose Luce: Goose Luce! Goose Luce?
Duck T: I'm fine, thanks, but a bit ducked off after seeing those humans littering this morning. Which reminds me—you mentioned earlier that you had a flippers-up plan for dealing with people who drop chip packets and water bottles in our water. Perhaps you'd like to share it?
Goose Luce: Goose Luce, Goose Luce, Goose Luce.
Duck T: Uhuh...
Goose Luce: Goose Luce, Goose Luce! GOOSE LUCE!
Duck T: That is ducking masterful! Would we use handcuffs or some kind of twine?
Goose Luce: Goose Luce, Goose Luce, Goose Luce, Goose Luce.
Duck T: You see, that's what I love about you, Goose Luce. Your plan to teach humans to not wreck the environment—and choke us birds, while they're at it—is mindful, clever, and above all, green. Recycled twine it is!
Goose Luce: Goose Luce. Goose Luce?
Duck T: No need to worry on that front! Sir Mallard Jones, as you know, has a motorboat, which should suit our purposes down-to-the-sludge.
Goose Luce: GOOSE! LUCE!
Yes, Mallard Jones does have a habit of distracting the birds when he rides his mallard-sized motorboat down the middle of the pond. All that champagne-drinking he does in that beak-brained tuxedo, as he leans over the side and toasts the high-femme birds, is a surefire way to meddle with our social distancing strategy! Try getting anyone to swim in the same direction, two feet apart, under normal circumstances, let alone when old Sir Swoon-Eyes is telling them how pretty they look and offering them tall flutes of something fancy.
But if you can get over that, Goose Luce, know that Mallard is my closest frenemy, and he tells me every ducking weekend (over pondweed sushi) how monumentally flocked off he is with human littering. So, I think his motorboat is ours, if we decide to greenlight this marvelous plan to duck-nap the human litterers.
Goose Luce: Goose Luce!
Duck T: Oh, really? I thought "duck-napping" meant ducks taking people prisoner? No? It's the other way round? Okay. That's distressing. Makes me wonder if that's why Duckie Corbert The Terrible disappeared that time—remember? I told the birds to practice their duck-napping skills on some genuine beak-brain who totally ducking deserved it.
Oops. Ducknabbit! That's totally it. Duckie was never seen again.
But anyway, back to this littering business....
Goose Luce: Goose Luce, Goose Luce, Goose Luce.
Duck T: I agree! Remember when my fabulous partner Peacock Riley came to the pond to do a charity opera performance? They did that ducking marvelous thing where tcovered in gold glitter, they rose out of the pond on a giant clamshell, while singing a romantic aria from Madame Flapper-fly? Well, thank Cod we were mesmerized by Riley's delectable singing, because if we'd looked closely we'd have seen three soggy chip packets and a disposable face mask clinging to the tips of their fanned tail-feathers.
One of those pesky chip packets was Spicy BBQ flavor, and Riley, who's sensitive to strong smells, had a runny nose all week! They had to bathe five times in Pinot Grigio! What a load of quackduckery!
Goose Luce: Goose Luce, Goose Luce, GOOSE LUCE!
Duck T: Look, I know all that litter's affecting the pond's brand. What am I meant to do? Predict this beak-brained, feather-flocking lunacy?
Goose Luce: Goose Luce.
Duck T: Yeah, it ducks me off too. And thank you for reminding me:
Humans, please remember to snip the ear-loops on your face masks before you chuck them away. If you don't, they can get around birds' necks. And if I have to give the quack-of-life to yet another half-strangled plover, I might just resign.
Goose Luce: Goose Luce, Goose Luce, Goose Luce. Goose Luce!
Duck T: WOW, I'M BEAK-SMACKED! Goose Luce, I am OFFICIALLY BLOWN AWAY. Here I am, a humble pond manager, quackering my way through life, when you sit down with me, open your beak, and CHANGE MY WHOLE WAY OF BEING WITH JUST A FEW SIMPLE WORDS. I swear, you are seriously deep.
Fancy a pondweed sandwich?
Goose Luce: Goose Luce!
Duck T: You're welcome. And thank you for speaking with me.
Humans, beware! You litter our pond and we'll be after you with the aforementioned roll of recycled twine, two sacks of nuts, and a recording of Massachusetts Acapella Sheep Choir singing 'Rocket Man' on a loop.
I know that sounds bad, but it's self-defense. And don't eat non-organic BBQ-flavored chips, okay? They're unbelievably gross.
Wanna know more about our pond? Check out our bird biographies here. Fancy a Goose Luce of your own? You can get her and support Chuckle Duck by buying her via this Amazon affiliate link, which means we get a little cash to buy more pondweed sandwiches with. Cod bless ye and thank you!
Stay safe, ducks and chucks.
Loves ya,
Duck T.