| Chapter two
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| I thought, «Sacre bleu!»
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| Unless the duck’s adopted soon
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| The webfoot will get his neck put on a block
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| And lopped in two!
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| They’ll cleave and hew him
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| Leave him in ruins
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| Like music from Houston
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| He’ll be chopped and screwed
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| And since Ben the farm director told me
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| None of the shelters in New Mexico
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| Would give him a rescue home
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| I thought «I'll get my phone and start
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| Tracking down assistance
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| Acting like a phallic cornea.»
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| (A private eye.)
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| I began in Acton, California
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| «Hi, you’ve reached the Farm Sanctuary
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| This is Theresa.»
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| «Yeah, hello. |
| My name is Zach
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| It’s nice to meetcha. |
| Can I beseech ya
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| On behalf of a creature that I just met?
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| A duck who eluded brutal canine attacks
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| But still will be hacked up and dined on?
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| It’s unfair, and unkind, and honestly, an anticlimax!»
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| Somehow
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| He gave the slip to fangs that dripped
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| With drops of dog saliva
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| He’s an awesome improviser like MacGyver
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| Made it out the frying pan
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| But still they plan to toss him in the fire
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| Even though he’s like a barnyard Holocaust survivor!" |
| Theresa said, «I'm sorry! |
| He really sounds impressive
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| But male ducks a.k.a drakes are too aggressive
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| Yeah
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| They can be very, very aggressive
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| And we have chickens we wouldn’t want him to mess with
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| We got peace to keep
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| We don’t need your duck and our hens
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| Going beak to beak
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| Yeah
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| I bet that you could find
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| Some other rescue that would help ya
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| But New Mexico isn’t known for having too many shelters
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| No
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| So when we hang up the phone I am gonna
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| Send over a list of sanctuaries out in Arizona
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| These, places might be willing to adopt him
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| He’s, special. |
| Gotta get the point across to 'em
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| Please, take my suggestion when you talk to 'em:
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| SAY THAT THING ABOUT THE HOLOCAUST TO 'EM!
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| I’m serious. |
| Tell everybody else you talk to he’s like a Holocaust survivor,
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| it’s gonna seal the deal."
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| «Wait, I can’t tell if you’re joking right now.»
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| «I'm 100% serious.»
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| She sent the list
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| I called a likely-seeming candidate
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| A spot close to Flagstaff
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| In the Grand Canyon State
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| «Hello this is Cody.»
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| «Hi, I met a duck who’s slated to die |
| After evading a violent fate.»
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| Then what the hell, I gave it a try
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| I said «He basically survived the Holocaust?»
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| And crossed my fingers, then
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| Cody said «We'll take him! |
| You can go ahead and bring him in.»
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| Theresa KNEW that line would keep these people from declining!
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| I’m no fan of WWII but that’s a tiny silver lining
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| Cody went on, «You're lucky to connect with me
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| Lots of places won’t take a drake;
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| They can be aggressive sexually.»
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| Whoa. |
| The plot had just heated up and thickened
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| Was THAT what Ben had meant when he said
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| «Beating up the chickens?»
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| I said, «Full disclosure: I won’t bluff or pretend
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| I’ve been told that this duck tends to be rough with the hens.»
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| I thought Cody’s offer might be shredded to confetti
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| But instead he said, «Ha! |
| I like this guy already.»
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| Direct quote from Cody!
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| Animal folks are quirky
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| I didn’t question too closely
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| Cause now I had a haven that Brutus would be safe in
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| I could save him
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| If I could just arrange some transportation
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| 'Cause Flagstaff is six and a half hours' drive |
| From the barn where Brutus was stashed at
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| Not close, no sir
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| And I wasn’t so sure
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| I could find a chauffeur
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| Of whom I could ask that
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| So although Ben had said that all those local sanctuaries were
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| Wary of the duck like he was hazmat
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| I thought it couldn’t hurt to take a second pass at
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| So I called a place smack dab in Santa Fe to have a chat
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| «Kindred Spirits, this is Ulla.»
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| «I'll get down to brass tacks
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| I met a duck who’s on the execution fast track
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| He’s a Holocaust-surviving sex offender
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| Think Schindler’s List meets Clockwork Orange meets Aflac.»
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| «HE SOUNDS FANTASTAC! |
| We’ll take him!»
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| Of course that’s a comedically heightened exaggeration
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| But after all his trials and tribulations
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| Brutus was in the clear!
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| «Except,» Ulla said
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| «We can’t pick him up
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| You’ll have to bring him here.»
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| That was no prob
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| I called Nate
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| You recall Nate
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| I said «Good news! |
| The duck’s saved
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| We stopped death. |
| We stalled fate
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| I found him a home close by
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| He’ll be in good hands like Allstate
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| But he is gonna need a ride there
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| Could you help out? |
| Could you haul freight? |
| It’s right outside of Santa Fe.»
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| And Nate went, «Nice. |
| Yeah, okay
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| I could probably drive thataway
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| Maybe like Friday or Saturday?»
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| I won’t deny, I felt deflated
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| I hoped he’d understand and say
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| «I'm so inspired, I can’t delay!
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| I leavin'! |
| Arriba! |
| Andele!»
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| But he was my only chance to save the day!
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| So I said, «Great! |
| Sure That rocks!
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| What would you plan to transport him in?
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| Pet carrier? |
| Cardboard box?»
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| And you will not believe his reply:
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| «Oh. |
| I don’t know…
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| I guess I’d throw him in my trunk and drive slow
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| That’s not a lie, though;
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| It’s unembellished fact
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| What the hell would have happened if I HADN’T asked?
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| Brutus clings to life like Superglue and then
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| En route to New Jerusalem
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| His pooch is screwed in the boot of this dude’s Subaru?!
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| «Ahem,"I said, «Gosh, Nate, that kinda sounds not great
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| Maybe ask around and see if someone has a dog crate?
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| And PLEASE keep me posted.» |
| «For sure,» he assured me
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| But I heard nothing Wednesday and not a word Thursday
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| I could feel the momentum melt, slip, and drop |
| Tick tock, close to twelve on the apocalypse clock
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| Gloom bloomed darkly. |
| Doom loomed starkly
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| To be concluded. |
| Stay tuned for Part III |