See the horrid duck is aiming at my tweedly bits again! Lucky I gave him a good smacking after that!
So anyway, this dumb bird I keep at home is a real bitch when i let him out
to get some fresh air to have some quiet time to meself (that's me meditating to bring bad weather upon duck's day). It turned out that on Fridae, he went barging into some lost village and almost got into a fight with a gang of guardian gods who nearly managed to turn him into a *cluck cluck* before he got out of range. Shame. I quite like cheeken, especially when it's fatty and comes pre-plucked...
Then later he somehow ended up crashing a singles nite at one of his dubious watering holes. Well, that's what he claims. Cos my nosey tells me he was in close proximity with a
bunny young lady by the name of Jessica the whole evening, and for that he has a couple of nice scratchies on his left arm to show her the next time they dare to meet under the bar counter...
Duck went out to suggest that he was the most outstanding guy at the joint, cos he went in reeking of fresh mansweat, while everyone else stank of toner ink and stale tea. Sweat has lotsa sex pheromones he said. But i hear the only attention he won was from a guy that bore an uncanny resemblance to a
Nearly all the other fellows there were fresh from the fax machine, while the ladies were dressed for pantries not parties, bitched duck. And the outfit that ran the show seemed to have gotten their math wrong, with a nerd/nerdette ratio of at least 3:2, leaving random configurations of engineers in shirt-sleeves clutching cans of coke in one corner and a bevy of chicks lounging in the far end. They made a further goof by getting a Jim Bean girl in a cowboy hat and asstight hot
panties pants to saunter around and loosen up the crowd. The guys formed tight aggregations around the lass and generated a visible aura of sour pussies. Or was it the frigid reek of cold fish?
Speaking of Jim Bean, that was one of the choices available on a little coupon to the lonesome folks that night. But clearly, some of these yuppies don't get out much. When the bartender dutifully asked, "You wanna it dry or with coke?" they went "Har har har?" while the poor bloke's eyeballs performed inhumane stunts at the back of his head. One girl kept insisting on having her serving of "Jim Beer". The sniggering duck didn't have the heart free them from their bourbon. So the booze failed to flow as smoothly as it shoulda have, and the joint lacked lubrication both social and *ahem*. Duck says the only people who scored were probably the crusty pair of young backpackers who jaunted in and headed straight upstairs. I can certainly tell you duck didn't – below's a wholly accurate depiction of a typical ducky encounter...