Ducks.....stupid stupid ducks.

I like my ducks in a row...nice neat little rows, all happy and within reach.
My beloved told me that although that's fine, I tend to look at ducks that are a mile away and want to get them all in a row too. This leads to problems of the original ducks getting lost along the way.

I'm a control freak...I know this. I'm one of those people that researches everything...e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.
When one of my ducks goes floating off by itself it drives me nuts.
Bad Duck! Get your ass back here and behave damnit.

I don't like it when the ducks ignore me...little bastards. If they'd just do what I tell them to do then everything would be ok.
The perfect example of an Escape Duck would be my Mom.
Her house is a mondo huge duck. It's a major duck looming on the horizon...a bad duck.
Now, if mom had listened to reason and allowed me to corral that duck, pluck it and make it go away, I wouldn't be having the problems I'm having right now.
If we'd sold that fucking duck, she'd not be in the situation she's in now..and I'd not be responsible for taking care of her the way I am right now.

I hate ducks.
We came to the conclusion that these are Exploding Ducks.
I can see them in the distance...I know what to do to fix them and get them all nice and neat in a row...but someone or something else causes the duck to Explode.

Exploding Ducks...
which means that most of what I'm dealing with right now is covered in Exploded Duck Shit.

My life has been turned into Duck Shit and there's not much I can do about it. I have decided to strike back and this is where I shall plan my attack from.

So beware Ducks....
I'm coming for ya and I'm loaded for bear - uuummm...DUCK!