Obituary: The Last Pale Duck
Munching on his brother’s and sisters’ poop was his favorite activity. His favorite place to do it was the UMass campus pond. It was a beautiful day, and he looked forward to enjoying it.
“If humans are so great, why are they so scared of a little ice in the pond?” he thought to himself. He flopped onto a sheet of ice and began squaring loudly at passersby while beating his chest with his wings.
His constant squawking would not last, however, as he noticed mid-squawk that hundreds of needles were raining from the sky. His final scream became that of a swan song, as he accepted his mortality and was struck by the fatal needle.
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