Do Not Feed the Ducks

It's a Tuesday night, and I'm walking, pacing at a comfortable speed down a sidewalk. The slight drafty wind brushes across my neck and gives me a sense of renewal. The moon is big and boisterous as it proudly lights up the night. Not many people are out today. The smell of a nearby pretzel shop warms my insides and makes my pace a hasty step. "I'll get the plain with a side of mustard," I say to the cashier as I place my order. The sound of machines churning happily at the sound of the cash register makes me hungrier. I hear the waitress take the following order. Soon I see out the corner of my eye a Duck. Late at night, somewhat windy, and outside this pretzel shop. "Dumb Duck," I think to myself. I take my order and eagerly take a large bite of the doughy salty morsel. Sweet and savory. Crunchy yet soft.

As I head out on my stroll, I notice the Duck. A fat waddling Duck on a crisp autumn night. "Why is it here, and why am I bothered?" The Duck seemed to shuffle along at the same pace as me. Unattached from its surroundings. As I try to consume myself with my late-night snack, I feel the urge to feed the Duck. So I do. I gently creep in front of it and throw down my overly priced pretzel. The Duck oddly pecks and jerks at the bread until it eats. I imagine this is the best food it's had in a while. This whole time I think to myself, "what an idiotic creature." "So ignorant, unable to fend for itself, unaware of possible danger. At the whim of humans." I continue to feed it my pretzel as these thoughts slowly marinate in my mind. My late-night careless stroll has become a gripe, angry encounter. The Duck minded its business yet somehow managed to entangle me into not only feeding it but acknowledging its useless existence. "Where do Ducks even fit in the food chain" I wonder.

Quickly I see an odd crack of the Duck's beak and a sharp head turn. I'm slightly startled as I notice the Duck looking up at me with knowing eyes: a severe intent and piercing stare. The Duck's head is still in place eating while the eyes look up at me in disgust and anger. "Does it know I think it's pitiful?" I now realize I am crouched low at eye level with this Duck. I am trying to understand how it can have such a humane scary glare. Slowly I become paranoid and feel a cool sweat. At this point, I need to get over myself and leave, but I can't move. My feet are stuck in this position while the Duck eats. I am crouched and squatting with a confused expression. Eye-level with a Duck. I am frozen. People are starting to look with confused humorous faces.

My body has gone into some paralysis, and the brisk wind goes flat. The last few brushes of air disappear along with that big proud moon. A glaring reddish light that almost mockingly shines on me replaces the moon. The Duck is growing as fast and tall as the light pole. This random lone Duck is looking at me while rising taller than I. Its waddle is now an arrogant stride, its glare now burning through my head. I notice the taupe-colored feathers become a flurry of colors before transitioning into a brittle textured brown. Now as big as the tree, the bird has condensed into a brown color with a hard, shiny texture.

I blink a quick blink. My head quickly Cocks left and right. Relieved, I try to raise my body from the squatting position, but I do not. I merely waddle from one side to the next. My long, dependable legs are now short sticks I have to stagger. I look in the window of the pretzel shop to see myself—a Duck. Tiny, alone, and scared. I not only have exchanged places with this Duck, but I have also exchanged my pride. I'm confused. How could this happen? I am now ignorant, disregarded, and trapped. In fear and dread, I notice the familiar wind breezing through again. I see the proud moon debuting to shine on all that is tall. Then I see the light blue sign high up near a bench. Big black letters read, "Do Not Feed the Ducks." While questioning the bird and judging its state of being, I was the dumb one. I could not be bothered with a sign that would save my life. Do Not Feed the Ducks.