I don't usually pick the violent option. I do my best to prevent loss of life whenever I can. You're taking your life into your hands when you hit the streets in the morning. At least you are if you're a duck and you live on my street.
I drove south, this morning, out of my neighborhood. As I approached the park where Allie and I spend time playing on the swings, three ducks crossed the street. One hurried to get out of my way, but the other two were distracted because they were fighting. No worries, I thought. They were off to the right side of the road enough so that I could swing a little left and maneuver around them.
Just as I was about to move left, one duck jumped up into the air and with a Matrix-like two footed kick, it launched the other duck right into my bumper. I drove right over that unlucky ducky with a mushy crunch.
I pulled over to look at the scene in my rear view. The victorious duck was looking down at our victim but seemed confused by the pile of feathers in the street that was a worthy opponent one minute and collateral damage the next.
What a strange thing. Do I stop? Do I go? Is there some kind of dead duck protocol? Is there someone you call to come scrape up the road kill? These were the thoughts going through my head.
How'd your Monday go?