Obituary: The Last Pale Duck

The Editors,
Times Staff

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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