Forget the pictures. Forget the cheery welcome. Forget all of this crap. I’ve been through to much shit. I mean lets be frank here, I deactivated lasers with my dick. By god, i swear, i am going to blow this fucker down. (Tenacious D reference R tards). Welcome to Mallard Monday folks. Where we celebrate those great birds who love kidnapping innocent bystanders. You know, honest folk making a living for themselves, trying to show the world the beautiful side of ducks. Good ol’ wholesome people.

Lets take a step backwards first. You’ve got to forgive me, i haven’t really been myself lately since, well, since the kidnapping. If you haven’t kept up with the news here on the site, then here is the jist of things. I  was taken hostage by a group of very angry ducks. You heard me. My own people. My kin even!  They weren’t too fond of the contestants that I’ve been choosing for the duck of the week. seriously people, we need to speak eye to eye about this. How could you not love these ducks?

442153841_c25d211f53

Supposedly the ducks i chose were disgraceful, horrid, backwater examples of the once proud race of ducks. Oh yes that’s right folks, supposedly ducks aren’t the same as they once where. They devolved. You heard it from me first people. Ah, but i digress. I was bound and gagged for weeks on end, being fed old loaves of musty, dusty and even moldy bread. This was them putting me at “their” level. They wanted to me to experience culinary horror. They wanted me to suffer. I did.

For days i was kept in an old chicken coop, two meters by two meters, locked in by chicken wire. At first i was a prisoner. Then i became a slave. Eventually, i became their source of humor. They dressed me up as a chicken, making me put on stand up routines for them. eventually they made me sing for them. Gradually, one of the whack pack eventually got the bright idea to make me dance for them. That was a dark, dark day in history. Once they got tired of my constant crying and smeared make up, they began the torture. Due to our policy here at the Shpitz, we will be leaving out the details of their methods. I how ever could care less and will thus give you said hint. Remember that scene from James bond? You know, the newer one. The one with the chair and the rope flail and the pain on the certain man areas? Yup…

After what seemed to have been an eternity of ankle biting and shrewd quacks of terror, the ducks gave in. I don’t know why but they did. They just stopped. They lined up, in front of me, staring me down with those damned black eyes. The room grew dark. silence surrounded me. One of them must have hit me on the back of my head, because the next thing i remember i was in the middle of school dressed up as a duck.

duck_costume There you have it folks. There is the story. No one believes me. No one will take my word for it. Police just think I’m crazy. Keep your eyes pealed my friends. We can get these bastards back. One day, i will take back my honor and show these ducks that they messed with the wrong blogger. Peace out mallard Monday. The dude is back in town.

Advertisements