Quack Addiction

There is sex going on under my front porch. Shameless, noisy, sex. And I’m sick of it. If I’m not having sex on or under my front porch, nobody else can.... these damn ducks. They think they can just do whatever they want, anywhere they want and we’re not supposed to notice. There’s two females and there’s at least six to eight males all crowding around them, trying to impress the girls with whatever boy ducks use to impress. And apparently sometimes one, or two or three of them get lucky if noise is any indicator. Finally I had enough and leaned my head over the side to talk one of the girls when they were taking a tick eating break in the grass.

Me: “Do you guys have to meet under my front porch? Can’t you take this somewhere else?”
Loretta Duck: “Look lady, we’ve always done it here. This is a well known mating location. The people before you fed us, something you could try.”
Me: “No, then they’ll be more of you and you’ll invite more friends. There’s enough group sex going on here as it is, I don’t need another dozen of you squawking and making the racket worse!”
Loretta Duck: “Jealous?”
Me: “Don’t be absurd. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a duck.”
Loretta Duck: “Oh yeah? Well a duck wouldn’t be caught dead with you, unless he was strung out on quack.”
Me: “Very funny.”
Loretta Duck: “Hey, I’m serious. Quack is an epidemic in our community. You think it’s an accident when you see a dead duck on the road? It’s not. That duck was either too strung out on quack to know he was in the road, or, worse, he just decided to end it all.”
Me: “Boy are you a lame duck. There’s no drug problem in the duck community. You eat ticks and worms out of the dirt for heaven’s sake, where do you find drugs?”
Loretta Duck: “What do you think is in those ticks? What could possibly be tasty in a tick? They have a chemical, a drug we call quack. You start off eating a few with your friends, then you start picking them out when you’re alone, soon, you can’t stop.”
Me: “So, is that what you were doing just now? Getting a hit of quack?”
Loretta Duck: “What’s it to you? I have a few hits in the morning and at night. I have it under control.”
Me: “How will you know when it’s out of control?”
Loretta Duck: “When I prefer it to the bread that people throw.”
Me: “So what are you saying? I’m responsible for your quack habit if I don’t throw you bread?”
Loretta Duck: “Bread, old bagels, buns, most people are very generous and that’s what keeps the quack addiction so low here. But, don’t feed us if you don’t want to. If you can stand to see the ducks who meet here driven slowly mad, don’t feed us. If you don’t mind one of us occasionally wandering under the wheels of your car, don’t feed us. We’ll just eat the ticks on your front lawn and soon you’ll have nothing but quack addicts under your porch.”
Me: “I resent being manipulated.”
Loretta Duck: “I understand. But really, you can’t spare any bread?”
Me: “I don’t approve of enabling you. Is rye okay?”
Loretta Duck: “It’s a start.”

Melissa Duck: “Did it work Loretta? Is she getting us bread?”
Loretta Duck: “That story always gets them! And it’s rye - we’re getting rye bread! Go get the boys, we’re going to party tonight!”