Tuesday, 28 March 2017

THE DUCK by Berenice Walters


Complaining continually about the pin-feathers, Bern* finally finished plucking the duck. Preparing it for cooking, I placed it in the sink while finding needle and thread to sew in the stuffing. The back door slammed shut and was followed by a stream of abuse from Bern who was mowing the back garden.

Sensing my Dingoes had ‘done it again', I dashed to the kitchen to find an incredibly cranky, but I think vaguely amused, Bern, standing on the steps with the duck, a trail of stuffing down the back steps. Napoleon had apparently grabbed the duck and run - and dropped it when caught in the act down the yard.

Having to go to a meeting the next day. I fed the dogs and prepared the contraceptive for the five bitches being treated, mixing it into five little balls. That’s right, Napoleon devoured these too when my back was turned.

I left a note for Bern saying that there was duck in the fridge for his tea. Arriving home late, the following note was on the table “Napoleon opened the fridge and nicked the WHOLE duck”.

*Bern was Berenice’s husband

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