I find few things more intimidating than attempting to operate someone else's remotes. While I managed to acquire both picture and sound, neither was at the same time. The more buttons I tried, the worse it became. Soon all I had on the screen were numbers and static, and I panicked. When I finally managed to get it back to how it was when I started, I quickly turned it off.
It seemed safer, I thought, to move outside to the deck, which was shady and quiet and overlooks a large pond. It was there I soon drew the attention of ducks.
They looked like a gang, all thuglike and shifty.
And all I could find to appease them was a single slice of bread.
The tiny pieces I tore off and tossed them bought me some time, but they were soon gathered again, looking as threatening as something that waddles can manage.
Consider, please, that I was fever-brained at the time, so sharing my ice cubes with ducks seemed a viable solution. They wanted something. It was all that I had. And for a time, they seemed to have fun pushing the ice around in the water.
Until my errant throw. When I bonked the biggest in the noggin with a cube.
It got ugly.
You may have heard about the memory of elephants, but let me warn you about ducks. Ducks never forget. Ducks hold grudges. Ducks are mean.
And ducks will take vengeance on a car if their offender runs indoors to hide.
Which is just what I did. Curled like a cat on my cold leather chair. Waiting for the bug to leave, and my girl to return.
Reach Karin Fuller via email at karinful...@gmail.com.