Innocent Bystander #1: “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
Innocent Bystander #2: “If you mean a giant Donald Duck ass-up in the street, yes.”
IB #1: “Does this happen a lot around here?”
IB #2: “It’s New York City. You don’t question anything. You just hope that whatever is going on doesn’t affect your commute and you can still pay your rent on time.”
Note: This is part of an on-going experiment at Bonnywood. Details found here.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Duck and cover ain’t all its cracked up to be. (No. No, pun-wise I will NOT go the easy route.)
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You’re a gentleman and a scholar, you are…
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Is he thumbing a ride?
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That’s what I thought. I assume he was trying to look smaller to encourage someone to offer him a ride.
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1950’s GPS. Accurate, but quite cumbersome.
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And potentially deadly, should there be a blowout…
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One has to suspend one’s sense of logic when it comes to New York City.
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Agreed. Expect the unexpected…
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It seems that Donald’s ducking days have been grounded. Especially since that former NY quacker is now paddling in Florida.
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Is ‘paddling’ intentional- or did spellcheck fail? Also maybe ‘ducking?’ Jest sayin’. Well considering there was that four year glitch when if you googled Trump you got ‘President.’ and that was SOOO wrong, surely?
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Haha. 🙂 I had a mind-picture of a duck with Donnie’s head attached, paddling and quacking in scum-infested pond while trying to hide from NY authorities among the weeds. I was tempted to use alternative vocabulary choices, but decided against them. 😉
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I’m sure we can all agree, a giant Donald Duck ass is preferable to most things we’ve seen on the streets of NY!
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Fair enough. This mess is rather innocent compared to other scenarios I’ve encountered…
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Donald (in an undignified position) “Hey! Anybody see a gigantic talking rat mouse around heres anywhere? (it came out as Quak quakkkk quakk quack! Pbbbbbllllt!), because we all know Donald can’t actually speak, he just makes a lot of sounds, which might be perfectly good “Duck speak” but no other species understands him. Not even Daisy (who is also a duck and not that morphine addled slut-ette from Part Three). People ran for cover as huge drops of spittle flung willy nilly by the huge spit spewing water lover splashed upon the tarmac where Donald (the Duck, not the Dump) had come to rest. Duck spit, like duck sh*t is damned hard to wash off and it smells pretty fowl 🤣 besides. Frustrated because nobody answered his question, Donald did the only other thing a sailor duck on leave might do. He stuck out his thumb, “Hitchin’ A Ride” to California where he heard he might get work in the cartoon genre. Some guy named Walt was waiting for him there.
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Sadly, upon arriving in Cali, Donald not the Dump quickly discovered that everybody lies in Hollywood and things rarely go as expected. In order to make ends meet until he was famous, Donald was forced to sell pumpkin butter at a roadside shack that would later become Knott’s Berry Farm. True story, swear….
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You are an amazing writer. Nice story. ☺
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Thank you. And you have a way with words as well!
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