Evil and the Duck
Once long ago in the town of Wordalot, in a villa by a duck pond, lived a family named Editor. The ducks from the pond seemed ordinary and were eaten with gusto. Duck a la Orange, duck a la blue, and duck of no particular color graced the Editor table at every meal.
One evening Kinevil Proofright Editor the 3rd was ruminating by the pond when a duck swam up and said to him, “Oh strangely whiskered but wise child, I have been sent by the ducks of the world to tell you that we are magic creatures that should not be eaten. A red pencil waved over us will cause each bird to speak the Kings English and charm people with tales so riveting, that no one will resist snapping us up for a mere $29.95 per duck. Let us come to live with you.”
Evil’s convinced his parents to breed the ducks -- hopefully to produce both the loquacious hardback and dulcet toned canvas-back varieties. Once inside the ducks ate everything in sight, even, unbeknownst to the family, busy cleaning up duck accidents, -- every- single- red pencil. Soon the house was full to bursting with duck breath -- and the other unfortunate and slimy consequences of waterfowl metabolism. Nowhere in all the squirming feathers and odorous offal could be found a single duck that spoke.
Evil’s disgusted parents tossed him into the yard. As he rolled towards the pond a lone duck lifted to the sky, and sailing overhead said something he remembered for the rest his life.
“Oh ho ho ho, Editors is the cwaziest people. Ha,ha,ha,ha, HA!”
If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, it must be a duck.