Quack

So I had a dream about getting a duck. Not just any duck… it was a helper duck. It came to a party I was apparently hosting. The duck ended up being a good friend. He didn’t talk much or really do anything but clean my bathroom, but I really loved that duck. See, cleaning the bathroom was a big deal, because I was the size of a Lego person and the house was normal size. So the bathroom was huge. The dream took a sad turn when the duck had to go to war with all the other ducks. This pretty much involved going downstairs to who knows what. I was rather depressed about the duck leaving. What seemed like years later, the ducks started returning up the stairs. They received quite an ovation from the town (suddenly there was a full village in my hallways?). I was so excited about my little ducky returning. Yet, as they marched in one by one, my friend wasn’t there. I was screaming out his name in anger when all the sudden, he appeared. He had ran out on the war and was sleeping at the local inn, I guess embarrassed to show himself as a cowardly duck. I rejoiced at the return of my duck. There was no hugs or hellos, we just went back to the bathroom for some cleaning.

Is that screwed up or what?

Jay

Jay Ratkowski runs this joint, which is why his name is on the front door. You can find him elsewhere at Google+, Facebook, or Twitter

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Author: Jay

Jay Ratkowski runs this joint, which is why his name is on the front door. You can find him elsewhere at Google+, Facebook, or Twitter

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