One day there’s two white ducks sitting in the middle of a lane on the road. I wanted to say something then, but I let it pass since they were gone when I got back.

The next day, a single white duck was standing in the middle of that same lane on that same road in the same spot. I couldn’t help but to stop and ask that Bird Brain a few questions.

First, you should know that I believe I can talk to birds like Dr. Doolittle. I could easily become an aviculturist and be walking around with a parrot or falcon clamped to my shoulder and be totally ignorant of your ornithophobia.

When I stopped my trunk next to Ducky Lucky, he was a little tight beaked at first. I explained that he needs to get his tail feathers out the street before he gets hit by a car. It’s plain to see that he’s being influenced by those gangster geese who think they own the road when they cross totally ignoring the fact that they’re birds and flying is a better, safer, faster option.

There was nothing I could do to convince White Daffy to get out the middle of the street. You’d think the grass would be softer than the hot blacktop or the nearby pond a lot more relaxing than hoping cars don’t Looney Toon you.

My final plea was to remind Darkwing’s Kin that he was in Chester County not Chester City were everybody walks in the middle of the street instead of using the sidewalk.

When I came back, the Webbed Foot Wonder had decided to move on. It made me ask who was the biggest quack.

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