The Odd Duck
"She's an odd duck," my mother said about the Schizophrenic neighbor who trimmed her grass with scissors, her front-door with yellowed obituaries.
"A strange bird."
I imagine an odd duck is like a pubescent duck, underwings plastered in goose pimples, (goose pimples, despite the name, being no anomaly amongst the pubescent duck) a quack that croaks out strange, bullfrog-like sobs. His molting gray feathers lack the sleek green lustre of a full grown, un-odd duck, and through squinty black eyes he can only stare at the Strange Bird that is a female pubescent duck.
She too, is an odd duck:
Her bill doesn't fit and her webbed feet are big as boat paddles. But her duck breast has grown expansively large, and as she waddles her own molting tail feathers drop to reveal a glorious, white, goose-pimpled bottom.
My mother, upon hearing this, pulls me close. Her knuckles knead my scalp like bread dough.
"Silly goose," she says.
"She's an odd duck," my mother said about the Schizophrenic neighbor who trimmed her grass with scissors, her front-door with yellowed obituaries.
"A strange bird."
I imagine an odd duck is like a pubescent duck, underwings plastered in goose pimples, (goose pimples, despite the name, being no anomaly amongst the pubescent duck) a quack that croaks out strange, bullfrog-like sobs. His molting gray feathers lack the sleek green lustre of a full grown, un-odd duck, and through squinty black eyes he can only stare at the Strange Bird that is a female pubescent duck.
She too, is an odd duck:
Her bill doesn't fit and her webbed feet are big as boat paddles. But her duck breast has grown expansively large, and as she waddles her own molting tail feathers drop to reveal a glorious, white, goose-pimpled bottom.
My mother, upon hearing this, pulls me close. Her knuckles knead my scalp like bread dough.
"Silly goose," she says.
Nice.
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