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August 04, 2006
Friday Shuffle - The Disco Duck Edition
Hello, Readers. Welcome to my shower!
There's nothing too extraordinary here. A couple of razors, some shaving cream, face cleanser, a vat of mango-pomegranate shower gel, a purple bath poof and, oh yeah, that, the bane of my existance.
To you, I know it probably looks like a cute little inocuous ducky. It's all plush and squishy, but still safe for hours of water fun and frolicking. When you squeeze his tummy, he quacks. "Quaaaack quaaaack quaaaack". I think the duck might be from one of the New England states, judging from the length of his A-sound.
The duck was a gift from The Cuz on the occasion of Clara Jane's first birthday. He's served us well for the past year and a half. But now, the duck is pushing his duck-luck.
Something's amiss with the duck, prompting him to wildly quack for no reason, without being pushed, all the fucking time. Since our house is pretty small, there's no escaping it.
"The duck's talking to you!" Clara Jane tells me, sounding far too much like that little girl in Poltergeist.
I keep expecting to hear that Boston-accented quack, followed by an innocent "The duck's heeeeee-re," at which point I will run screaming from the house, which I'm starting to think was built on a sacred duck burial ground.
Sitting in the living room, knitting. "Quaaaack quaaaack quaaaack."
Trying to sleep. "Quaaaack quaaaack quaaaack."
Making dinner. "Quaaaack quaaaack quaaack."
Curled into the fetal position, whacking my head on the hardwood floor while weeping. "Quaaaack quaaaack quaaaack."
The duck's got a raspy voice, like he's been holed up in the shower, chain-smoking Pall Malls while taking nips of Old Crow bourbon.
A few nights ago, B. and I were in bed, reading. The duck had been quiet all day, so much so that I had nearly forgotten about it. But as soon as the thought of going to sleep crossed my mind, "Quaaaack quaaaack quaaaack."
B. threw the covers off and started to get up.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I'm getting rid of the damn duck!"
And you know what? I wouldn't let him. I wouldn't let him! Have I gone completely stupid? No. I'm just curious to see how long the phantom quacking continues. Maybe his little ducky energy will be gone by the end of the weekend. Maybe it'll go on for years. Who knows? I'd like to.
Yet more evidence that perhaps the latest round of brain pills aren't quiet doing the trick. Besides, they make me feel all shuffly.
1. If You're Ready (Come Go with Me) - the Staple Singers
2. We Believe - Red Hot Chili Peppers
3. Shadrach - Beastie Boys
4. Pieholden Suite - Wilco
5. If I Could Build My Whole World Around You - Marvin Gaye and Tammy Terrell
6. A Better Future - David Bowie
7. My First Plea - Jimmy Reed
8. Don't Come the Cowboy with Me, Sonny Jim - Kirsty MacColl
9. Vertigo - U2
10. Turn Me On - Nina Simone
Ah, a touch of soul to counteract being haunted by the soulless.
Posted by Robin at August 4, 2006 02:07 PM
Comments
L's got a couple phantom-sound toys, too. A firetruck puzzle -- a freakin' FIRETRUCK. It's supposed to go off only when all the pieces are in.
So I take all the pieces out and, for safety, scatter them throughout the house and vehicles.
It goes off.
Figuring it's darkness-activated, I turn it over.
It goes off. At 2 a.m.
There is a special place for people who give this type of gift to young children.
Posted by: Mary at August 4, 2006 03:03 PM
I try.
It's almost her 2.5 birthday. Maybe I can find something else equally as obsessed.
Posted by: Wendy at August 4, 2006 03:18 PM
My mother gave my son a toy phone with an answering machine when he was a toddler. It had a variety of noises including a realistic dial tone. Unfortunately, after a time, it thought we needed to hear a dial tone at all hours of the day and night. I yanked the batteries out. Problem solved. NO. It continued to periodically make that noise until it unfortunately vanished into a trash can.
Posted by: TW at August 4, 2006 04:32 PM
Chain smoking Pall Malls... hahahahha
You, you're like those horror movie girls that open the door or answer the phone or STOP TO PICK UP YOUR SHOE when you're running from the ax murderer. I mean, those girls all KNOW what they should be doing, just like you know you should get rid of the duck, right? But instead, you stop and pick up your shoe. Oops, I mean, keep the evil possessed thing in your bath.
I shall pray for your safety....
Posted by: JustLinda at August 4, 2006 09:56 PM
funny story - my kid brother had a wind up bear with symbals attached which he used to wind up and leave on the stairs in the middle of the night !
Posted by: cp at August 9, 2006 10:27 AM
