Duck finds himself surrounded in the forest by menacing tree folk bent on his destruction. Will our antihero make it out in one piece. Oh and as usual Charles gets mixed up in this.
"I say we feed them to the ants!"
The Tree Folk were not in the habit of trusting strangers. Executing them, certainly, trusting, less so.
"I say we dice them into mulch!"
Now Duck did not know what mulch was, but I knew he was very much afraid of being made into a D20. Bound up tightly, wings tied behind his back, mine and Ducks only hope was his powers of persuasion. Unfortunately Duck had earlier taken a blow to the head for reasons I shall explain shortly, and believed himself to be a white dragon.
"Stay back! Or I shall breath fire on you!" Duck yelled, or at least said in as loud a manner as a duckling can manage.
"Duck, I keep trying to explain to you, you are not a white dragon, there is no such thing as a white dragon!" I mumble in Ducks direction, the vines around my snout preventing any clearer communication
"An albino dragon?" Duck responds
"White was not the problem in that sentence Duck."
Perhaps I should explain how we got into this mess. My name is Charles, and daschund, short on hair and long on patience. This is lucky, because my best friend, Duck, has a questionable level of sanity.
This latest incident all began when Duck and I went to the gym. Duck had decided he wanted to be in the circus, and figured the gym was the perfect place to learn. I think he had the chest press machine mixed up with a high wire, on account of them both having wires. Following Duck's chain of reasoning can be tough, and is rarely fruitful.
At the gym Duck decided he couldn't 'unfold' the high wire act, and so he was going to be juggler instead. He went looking for balls, but all he found were the inflatable ones which were, in his words, 'not round enough'. He explained:
"These balls are no good, they have too little curvature because they are too big" as he waddled away from the balls towards an exercise bike.
"Oooh magic cycle!" Duck exclaimed as he eyed the bike, or perhaps wide eyed
Duck hopped on the bike but he couldn't reach the pedals. As I went to point this out to him he began wildly thrashing his legs back and forth and making quacking sounds which I think were supposed to imitate a motorcycle. It could also have been a washing machine, that wasn't really clear.
"Duck I'm not sure that is going to work." I observed dryly.
"You're right Charles! The pedals at too low and not curvy enough." Duck exclaimed as he hopped off the bike
Moments later her returned with a paint brush covered in glue and two of the exercise balls. Where he obtained the paintbrush from I don't know, Duck is in the habit of just finding things he needs. He began painting the pedals as I looked around nervously hoping no one would notice Duck's latest act of vandalism.
"Duck I'm fairly certain you aren't supposed to do that with the bikes" I said under my breath
"How else are ducks supposed reach the pedals?" Duck responded.
He did have a point.
Moments later Duck had hopped back on the bike and had begun peddling, his feet now able to reach the balls he had just stuck on the pedals. To my surprise a small wormhole appeared in front of the bike. I'm not sure why I was surprised, Duck had earlier pointed out that the bike was a magic cycle and I had no reason to doubt him.
"Come help Charles if we just pedal fast enough we can open the door to this other world!" Duck panted
I hopped in front of him on the bike and we began peddling furiously. I was precariously balanced on account of not having hands, and Duck was doing his best to steady himself with his under developed wings. Suffices to say we were an unsteady pair, but an unsteady pair with a widening magic doorway.
It was just as the doorway reached its widest that whatever duck had done to the chest press machine took effect and I heard the ping of a wire. Shortly after this ping I heard the thud of the arm of the chest press on Duck's head and we were propelled through the magic door.