Ducky Park
Tackle Happy Duck
When you showed up for your first day at your new job you were greeted by the beloved mascot Happy Duck. He mocked you. He called you stupid. He made a fool of you in front of countless patrons and now here he is.
His attention is focused on the kid. He doesn't even know you're there. He has no idea what's about to hit him.
You do a little Dastardly howl before you charge. Might as well put on a show, you figure as you begin running. You cover twenty feet or so in no time and then you launch yourself at him, diving through the air and howling all the while.
A few people in the crowd start to step back when they see what you’re doing but most people don’t even see it coming. You connect with your shoulder into the padded mascot suit of the duck. You wrap your arm around him. You connect, tumbling together to the pavement.
You stand up and do your best Dastardly Dog barks and growls. A few people in the crowd clap. Happy starts to get to his feet.
“Dastardly Dog,” Happy Duck says theatrically, his big yellow wings gesticulating just like in the cartoon. The crowd finishes the tagline with Happy. “Who let you outside?”
There are a few laughs from the crowd and a bit more clapping. Then the line for the ride moves forward and Happy Duck starts waddling over to you. He stops a couple feet away from you and leans in. “What the hell was that?” he asks in a low enough tone that only you can hear it.
You bark at him.
“Look I get it asshole,” Happy Duck tells you; “You’re enthusiastic, but we can’t do that kind of thing. People can get hurt.”
You growl.
“Look, are you new or something? Did you win a contest?”
You punch him in his big stupid duck head. He stumbles sideways a few steps before he catches himself. “You’re the idiot from the gate aren’t you?” He says.
So he remembers what happened. He remembers you. He understands that he deserves what’s coming. There is a big dent in his costumed head where you hit him.
You go in for another swing but your white-gloved dog-fist is blocked by a big yellow wing. A fist hits you in the stomach once, twice, three times. “What is your actual problem?!” Happy Duck screams so hard his voice breaks.
He grabs you by your big dog-head and throws you to the ground. You land awkwardly on your shoulder and hear something snap. “I’m reporting you,” he tells you, turning away.
You push with your legs and slide over to him, grabbing him by a webbed foot and pulling him down. You crawl over top of him and start punching over and over again.
Shocked parkgoers stop to watch. Some gasp, some gossip, a child cries.
Someone pulls you off of the duck and you are escorted to management. Your uncle is not excited to see you.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Ricky,” he tells you, throwing his hands up in disgust. “I really don’t.”
“He was mean to me, Uncle Jim!”
“You need to go home,” he tells you. “And don’t come back.”
“That’s not fair!” You protest.
“I’m going to try to talk Danny out of pressing charges. You just better hope it works.”
“Whatever!” You say. “I don’t see why I’m the one who's in trouble here. He was mean to me. Happy Duck can’t be mean to people. That’s not who Happy Duck is.”
“Ricky, take off the costume and get out of here,” Uncle Jim says sternly. “You are fired.”
“For what?” You tell, taking the dog-head off. “For being the best damn Dastardly Dog you’ve ever had?”
“You’re just supposed to pose for pictures and wave, Ricky!”
“I need some help with the zipper,” you say, trying to reach your arm behind your back. Your uncle grunts, but walks behind you and pulls on the zipper. It doesn’t move.
“I think it’s stuck,” he says.
“You got to pull it down I think,” you tell him.
“I know that, but it’s stuck.”
“Like we zipped it up,” you explain, “so now it has to zip down.”
“No, I get that part. I’m telling you it’s stuck.”
“Are you pulling up or down?” You ask.
“God damn it Ricky!” he says, pulling down on the zipper as hard as he can. It comes open and you step out of the costume.
“Don’t tell my dad what happened,” You say.
“Oh I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Uncle Jim tells you. “You messed up pretty bad kid.”
You look at your feet. “Dastardly Dog not being able to attack Happy Duck is a stupid rule anyway,” you mumble.
“What?” Your uncle asks, but before you can respond he holds a hand up to silence you. “No, never mind. I don’t want to know what you said. Security is waiting outside to escort you out of the park.”
You nod and head out of the office, two guys stand outside waiting for you. They take you to the exit and you begin your long walk home.
Your dad is waiting for you. Uncle Jim called him, he knows. He is not happy. He sends you to your room without snacks and plays sad country music at full volume all night. It sucks.
In the morning your father tells you to pack your things and move out. He says you’re too old to continue to be an absolute failure at every aspect of life.
In the following years you live on the streets. You think back to the incident more often than not. Happy Duck is supposed to be nice and happy and friendly, not sarcastic and rude. Meanwhile Dastardly Dog is supposed to be a mean son of a bitch. “No really, I’m a dog so my mom actually is a bitch.”
If Dastardly found himself in the situation that you found yourself in, you have no doubt that he would have reacted the same way. If you think about it you kind of actually did too good of a job.
Sometimes an actor takes on a character and commits so completely to the performance that it transcends art.
Sometimes pursuing that art leaves you broke and homeless and cold and alone. And you have Ducky Park to thank.
When you showed up for your first day at your new job you were greeted by the beloved mascot Happy Duck. He mocked you. He called you stupid. He made a fool of you in front of countless patrons and now here he is.
His attention is focused on the kid. He doesn't even know you're there. He has no idea what's about to hit him.
You do a little Dastardly howl before you charge. Might as well put on a show, you figure as you begin running. You cover twenty feet or so in no time and then you launch yourself at him, diving through the air and howling all the while.
A few people in the crowd start to step back when they see what you’re doing but most people don’t even see it coming. You connect with your shoulder into the padded mascot suit of the duck. You wrap your arm around him. You connect, tumbling together to the pavement.
You stand up and do your best Dastardly Dog barks and growls. A few people in the crowd clap. Happy starts to get to his feet.
“Dastardly Dog,” Happy Duck says theatrically, his big yellow wings gesticulating just like in the cartoon. The crowd finishes the tagline with Happy. “Who let you outside?”
There are a few laughs from the crowd and a bit more clapping. Then the line for the ride moves forward and Happy Duck starts waddling over to you. He stops a couple feet away from you and leans in. “What the hell was that?” he asks in a low enough tone that only you can hear it.
You bark at him.
“Look I get it asshole,” Happy Duck tells you; “You’re enthusiastic, but we can’t do that kind of thing. People can get hurt.”
You growl.
“Look, are you new or something? Did you win a contest?”
You punch him in his big stupid duck head. He stumbles sideways a few steps before he catches himself. “You’re the idiot from the gate aren’t you?” He says.
So he remembers what happened. He remembers you. He understands that he deserves what’s coming. There is a big dent in his costumed head where you hit him.
You go in for another swing but your white-gloved dog-fist is blocked by a big yellow wing. A fist hits you in the stomach once, twice, three times. “What is your actual problem?!” Happy Duck screams so hard his voice breaks.
He grabs you by your big dog-head and throws you to the ground. You land awkwardly on your shoulder and hear something snap. “I’m reporting you,” he tells you, turning away.
You push with your legs and slide over to him, grabbing him by a webbed foot and pulling him down. You crawl over top of him and start punching over and over again.
Shocked parkgoers stop to watch. Some gasp, some gossip, a child cries.
Someone pulls you off of the duck and you are escorted to management. Your uncle is not excited to see you.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Ricky,” he tells you, throwing his hands up in disgust. “I really don’t.”
“He was mean to me, Uncle Jim!”
“You need to go home,” he tells you. “And don’t come back.”
“That’s not fair!” You protest.
“I’m going to try to talk Danny out of pressing charges. You just better hope it works.”
“Whatever!” You say. “I don’t see why I’m the one who's in trouble here. He was mean to me. Happy Duck can’t be mean to people. That’s not who Happy Duck is.”
“Ricky, take off the costume and get out of here,” Uncle Jim says sternly. “You are fired.”
“For what?” You tell, taking the dog-head off. “For being the best damn Dastardly Dog you’ve ever had?”
“You’re just supposed to pose for pictures and wave, Ricky!”
“I need some help with the zipper,” you say, trying to reach your arm behind your back. Your uncle grunts, but walks behind you and pulls on the zipper. It doesn’t move.
“I think it’s stuck,” he says.
“You got to pull it down I think,” you tell him.
“I know that, but it’s stuck.”
“Like we zipped it up,” you explain, “so now it has to zip down.”
“No, I get that part. I’m telling you it’s stuck.”
“Are you pulling up or down?” You ask.
“God damn it Ricky!” he says, pulling down on the zipper as hard as he can. It comes open and you step out of the costume.
“Don’t tell my dad what happened,” You say.
“Oh I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Uncle Jim tells you. “You messed up pretty bad kid.”
You look at your feet. “Dastardly Dog not being able to attack Happy Duck is a stupid rule anyway,” you mumble.
“What?” Your uncle asks, but before you can respond he holds a hand up to silence you. “No, never mind. I don’t want to know what you said. Security is waiting outside to escort you out of the park.”
You nod and head out of the office, two guys stand outside waiting for you. They take you to the exit and you begin your long walk home.
Your dad is waiting for you. Uncle Jim called him, he knows. He is not happy. He sends you to your room without snacks and plays sad country music at full volume all night. It sucks.
In the morning your father tells you to pack your things and move out. He says you’re too old to continue to be an absolute failure at every aspect of life.
In the following years you live on the streets. You think back to the incident more often than not. Happy Duck is supposed to be nice and happy and friendly, not sarcastic and rude. Meanwhile Dastardly Dog is supposed to be a mean son of a bitch. “No really, I’m a dog so my mom actually is a bitch.”
If Dastardly found himself in the situation that you found yourself in, you have no doubt that he would have reacted the same way. If you think about it you kind of actually did too good of a job.
Sometimes an actor takes on a character and commits so completely to the performance that it transcends art.
Sometimes pursuing that art leaves you broke and homeless and cold and alone. And you have Ducky Park to thank.
