Ducks Are The Only Solution
Ducks. You've got to love 'em, right? Maybe?
Maybe this belongs with my Miracles of Modern Medicine
series - when I was a kid, the dentist 'supposedly' gave me
sodium pentathol. Why, I'm not sure. Most medical people
I've told about this reaction brush it off. Dentists gave people a
lot of stuff in the 60s - that's what the Beatles said, anyway . . .
I remember a red horizon that spread out in front of me,
then stretched up and over my head at a high rate of speed.
This went on for a bit (with the colours changing rapidly),
then I passed out. When I awoke, I was in a fog. But I knew
one thing: I MUST SEE REAL DUCKS --- RIGHT NOW ! ! !
Apparently I was hysterical, and adamant that DUCKS WERE THE
ONLY SOLUTION. My parents eventually drove to a house that
had a stream next to it where ducks were known to hang out.
I remember that when we pulled up, I bolted from the car before
it had even come to a full stop and ran onto the property toward
the ducks while my parents hastily tried to explain to the owner
what was going on. I stood among the ducks, chanting, ". . .ducks
. . ducks . . .ducks . . ." as if in rapture. Hey, maybe it WAS the
Rapture - there WAS all that special lighting after all . . . sorry if
you missed it !
I STILL love the little bastards. Even if, as my friend's wife pointed
out, "They eat maggots, you know". So what? I once saw a couple of
women on The Tonight Show who ate them, too - the "maggot-crispie
cakes" were my personal favourite from their "recipes".
My obsession has waned a bit over the years. I gave my son all the little
duck figures people had given to me over the years. I DID copy the
tape of the late 70s instrumental, "Ducks in the Distance" (the words
never got any further than having people yell "DUUUUCKS!") to CD
for posterity. Truth be told, we never really finished making the
damn thing. But someday my family will be looking for that
all-important third signature to put me away and will need any
additional evidence they can get. . . I try to be a good "provider".
Besides, other people were involved in that recording - they should
go away, too.
There was a duck pond at one of my jobs that was perfect for hiding
out from any additional work. Was that the ducks coming to my rescue
once again ? !
Even though our relationship isn't as intense as it was when I was a
child, I'm sure there's still some adventure for me and the ducks in
the future.
Yep, I love the little maggot-eatin' bastards. Just not for dinner.
Maybe this belongs with my Miracles of Modern Medicine
series - when I was a kid, the dentist 'supposedly' gave me
sodium pentathol. Why, I'm not sure. Most medical people
I've told about this reaction brush it off. Dentists gave people a
lot of stuff in the 60s - that's what the Beatles said, anyway . . .
I remember a red horizon that spread out in front of me,
then stretched up and over my head at a high rate of speed.
This went on for a bit (with the colours changing rapidly),
then I passed out. When I awoke, I was in a fog. But I knew
one thing: I MUST SEE REAL DUCKS --- RIGHT NOW ! ! !
Apparently I was hysterical, and adamant that DUCKS WERE THE
ONLY SOLUTION. My parents eventually drove to a house that
had a stream next to it where ducks were known to hang out.
I remember that when we pulled up, I bolted from the car before
it had even come to a full stop and ran onto the property toward
the ducks while my parents hastily tried to explain to the owner
what was going on. I stood among the ducks, chanting, ". . .ducks
. . ducks . . .ducks . . ." as if in rapture. Hey, maybe it WAS the
Rapture - there WAS all that special lighting after all . . . sorry if
you missed it !
I STILL love the little bastards. Even if, as my friend's wife pointed
out, "They eat maggots, you know". So what? I once saw a couple of
women on The Tonight Show who ate them, too - the "maggot-crispie
cakes" were my personal favourite from their "recipes".
My obsession has waned a bit over the years. I gave my son all the little
duck figures people had given to me over the years. I DID copy the
tape of the late 70s instrumental, "Ducks in the Distance" (the words
never got any further than having people yell "DUUUUCKS!") to CD
for posterity. Truth be told, we never really finished making the
damn thing. But someday my family will be looking for that
all-important third signature to put me away and will need any
additional evidence they can get. . . I try to be a good "provider".
Besides, other people were involved in that recording - they should
go away, too.
There was a duck pond at one of my jobs that was perfect for hiding
out from any additional work. Was that the ducks coming to my rescue
once again ? !
Even though our relationship isn't as intense as it was when I was a
child, I'm sure there's still some adventure for me and the ducks in
the future.
Yep, I love the little maggot-eatin' bastards. Just not for dinner.