>>> Primal Urges
By staff writer Nathan DeGraaf

March 29, 2007

Nathan: I’m thinking I could write children’s books.
Oh dear God!

Huddle up kids. I’m gonna tell you a story.

A long time ago in a galaxy very, very close to us, there lived three ducks. Actually, there lived millions of different species of animals and vegetation, but we’re focusing on the three ducks for most of this story.

Anyway, the three ducks all hated each other for various reasons, most of which had to do with the courting of female ducks and (allegedly) intentionally crapping on one another. This led to a lot of squawking, wing-fluttering and pecking (or whatever the hell ducks do when they fight).

Eventually, the other animals in the woods got fed up with the ducks’ constant fighting and decided that they would eat them. The problem was, naturally, that the ducks could fly. And no flying animal really wanted to eat the ducks. So the animals decided to have a meeting in some cave or wherever the hell animals hold meetings (I am not a zoologist), and decided that the best thing to do would be to separate the three ducks.

“The conversation became a tumultuous blur of accusations of woman-stealing and shit placement.”

But, because they were all animals, they were way too stupid to devise a plan that would work to get them apart. Just when things seemed most hopeless, one little bird had an idea. She said that she would go up to Eddie, Steve and Jim (those are the American names of the birds—I don’t speak bird very well), and ask them a few questions. She stated that she knew she could convince them to stop fighting. And just in case, she would bring her friend, Bobo the bear (bears always have goofy names—it’s a law of nature), who would eat them if he got the chance.

So, one evening, just before sunset, as Eddie, Steve and Jim met in a clearing for the nightly squawk-fest, the little bird—let’s call her Ona ‘cause it’s fun to say—approached the three ducks.

“I don’t understand,” she began, “why you three always meet to fight. No one ever wins, and no one ever has a good time, and yet you do it constantly. Is this enjoyable for you?”

“It’s not a matter of enjoyable,” said one of the ducks (Eddie and Steve look a lot alike). “It’s a matter of what must be done. These two are cretins and morons with no honor and understanding. Likewise, they think that I may be the worst kind of duck, and so they feel they must fight with me. One day, someone will win. Until then, we must fight.”

“But why?” asked Ona. “Why do you have to fight each other constantly?”

After Ona asked the question, Eddie, Steve and Jim began squawking at once. The conversation became a tumultuous blur of accusations of woman-stealing and intentional shit placement.

“Don’t you see,” Ona interrupted. “Your fighting is driving all of us batty. If you don’t stop, something bad may happen to the three of you. Why don’t you fly someplace else to do your fighting?”

“Give us a few more weeks,” said Jim (he’s got a big blue stripe on his nose). “We’re ducks. We’ll be out of here in no time. Besides, sometimes you just have to fight and kill for what you believe in.”

“True enough,” said Ona, and she flew away.

Seconds later, a bear jumped out of the woods and ate Eddie and Steve.

“Damn,” said Jim. “That was harsh.”

And he flew away.

The lesson, as always, is don’t be an annoying, disruptive bitch or something will eat you. It’s true. I read it in one of those Hannibal Lecter books.