As I was running around Harlem while a bike race was going on, I see a duckling with her beau contemplating crossing the street. Not a good idea, I think, since those bikers wouldn’t stop for me let alone Jemima Puddle-Duck.
The male was quacking and if I were to interpret he was cautioning her on crossing. “What are you fucking nuts…I said I was sorry…come over here before you become instant pate.”
But you know how women are. When we decide to do something, that’s it.
I watched as she edged her way onto the road, her webbed feet taking tiny steps.
A small fleet of bikes were coming in the distance. Oh God, please…I’m really not up for this, but to my amazement they somehow missed her as her man stood paralyzed on the curb.
That’s when I got pissed. “Hey you, yeah I mean you…what kind of boyfriend are you? Grab her by one of those obstinate feathers and get her the hell outta there.”
He still didn’t move. Was he drunk? I mean come on ducky.
She was now where I was, waddling along as if nothing was awry.
I watched for a spell to see if he’d come join her, but she immediately met some other guy and disappeared into the woods.