It had seemed like a normal day. Slightly overcast, traffic causing folks to get testy and rev their engines---MENACINGLY---at the other drivers, and the shoppers of Henpeck Grocery going about their business, dropping overpriced luxury items into shopping carts, then waiting angrily in line as the four people ahead of them paid for their goods. (“What right did THEY have to be finished shopping before ME?” they all seemed to think.) But what made this particular day START to feel slightly different was when the duck walked into the store…
This occurrence, not IMPOSSIBLE on its own---what with automatic doors and such---was met with amused snickers and a few pointing fingers from the first folks who noticed. It was when the duck pulled out a gun and demanded that the cashier put all the money in her till into a bag that people started to suspect something unprecedented was happening. The poor cashier, completely at a loss, just stared at the duck, barely noticing his firearm---until he fired a shot towards the ceiling, the thunderous crack of his .45 causing everyone to go cold…
Then the screaming started.
“Put the money in a bag, RIGHT NOW!” the duck yelled, “or the next shot goes right through your fucking BRAIN!”
Sobbing and shaking, the girl tapped a few buttons, then whimpered, “I… I need a manager’s override to open the till…”
The duck shook its head, “You’re shitting me…”
“Nnn… No. I can’t open the till unless I finish a sale without an override…” A few customers were nodding their heads, looking from the cashier to the duck and back again. It was known. No open till without an override.
“Then get a fucking override, or I will SHOOT YOU!” the duck’s rage caused him to grind his big, pearly white teeth together.
“Manager override… Check-stand nine…please… Please hurry…” the girl said into an intercom.
Everyone sat there, in silence, waiting. The duck, all of two feet tall, holding his gun, as menacingly as he could---you know, with the handle out sideways, which is a terrible way to hold a gun, by the way---and stepping from one web foot to another. After a few seconds, a short, skinny, balding fellow in thick squarish glasses came shuffling out of the office.
“Open the goddam register…. NOW…” the duck said. The manager stiffened, walking sideways towards the till, his eyes never leaving the gun at the end of the duck’s wing. The man put a key into the register, turned it, and pushed a few buttons. The till opened with a clang.
The girl scooped up the money from the till, stuffed it into a plastic bag, and held the bag out at arm’s length. The duck shook its head and waved, with the gun, for the girl to bring the bag to him. She slowly, shaking terrible, walked over towards the duck, and the foul fowl snatched the bag out of girl’s hand---causing her to snap off a quick scream---and it waddled, quickly, out the door…
Everyone just stood there, after the duck had gone, looking at the door to the building. They had all been in such shock that NOBODY had called the police.
Finally, the manager said, “We just got robbed by a duck…”
It was at that point that somebody, around aisle four, laughed---but the rest of the crowd shuddered. Something, they all realized---all except Claudio, who thought it was funny---that something absolutely horrible had happened. Something that had changed their world forever…
---Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Holy Fool)
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