Tonight, Army Boy and I had the brilliant idea that we were going to bake cupcakes.
This story? Totally not about that.
We were in the kitchen doing dishes, and enjoying the smell of delicious baked goods wafting through the room, when Army Boy turned to me with a puzzled expression.
“Is the tv on?” I listened for a minute, and heard something that sounded like ducks quacking.
“No, but the window’s open…” I said, drifting toward said window. As I pushed aside the curtains, I was completely unprepared for what was taking place on my front lawn.
It was AN ORGY. Of the duck variety.
Three male ducks were totally gangbanging a female. And they were all quacking at the top of their hearty duck lungs.
“OHMIGOD!” I yelped. “It’s duck sex! Duck sex on our grass! Looklooklooklook!!” I pointed frantically toward the feathered ball of writhing ecstasy on the grass.
“HOLY. CRAP.” Army Boy paused, sponge in midair. “Where’s your camera.”
Fortunately, it was close at hand, as we were recording the cupcake apocalypse that we’d created prior to baking them. Red Velvet batter really looks gruesome before cooking.
I grabbed the camera and tiptoed to the front door, having absolutely no qualms about being a peeping tom in this little session of winged porn. Unfortunately, we have an older front door which is impossible to open quietly, and it alerted the ducks to my presence.
The female managed to take advantage of the distraction and darted toward my neighbor’s property, but the males quickly surrounded her again, honking as one hopped on top and started going to town. I barely had time to fire off two shots, and suddenly the event was over as suddenly as it had started.
I stepped back from the door and looked at Army Boy, unsure whether to be stunned or start laughing hysterically.
The ducks were puffing their chests out and flapping their wings, all four of them stretching as if to say “Was it good for you?”
“You know what this reminds me of?” AB mused. “The scene, from ‘500 Days of Summer’?”
If I were remotely confused, he proceeded to act it out for me, puffing his cheest out and strutting jauntily, while quacking out the melody. (If you’re confused? The video is below. :))
That sent me over the edge, and I was reduced to sitting on the floor, laughing until tears came down my cheeks.
Our elderly neighbors are probably scandalized. First, two whippersnappers move in with their little silver cars and their satellite dish, and now there’s fornication all over the place.
Don’t even get me started on what’s going to happen when those eggs finally hatch. There’s going to be an episode of Maury, with that damn envelope and two different “You are NOT the father!” verdicts… Those ducklings are going to need a shitload of therapy.
This neighborhood’s really going to the dogs I tell you.
Or the ducks.