I may or my not have a friend of a particularly grumpy disposition. Let’s call him Zach.
A few years ago we had this idea for a way to brighten his day and win awards for Best Documentary. In one fell swoop we would turn his life around and our own too.
Can't you just picture it? Just substitute John Lennon with Zach and the rest with ducklinkgs!
One night, as he was sleeping, we would sneak into his apartment (which may or may not be conveniently located near my own), and “assign” some motherless ducklings to him. I’m not really clear on how easy/difficult that whole process would be, but we are willing to give it a try anyway.
Zach would wake up in the morning to find himself followed around by ducklings. Hidden cameras would record his confusion and outrage. I can just picture him walking over here in his angry way to share his unfortunate new fate with three or four fuzzy ducklings in tow.
They would follow him to work. Oh the scene when his boss comes in! In the grocery store! Zach doesn’t fly much, but maybe he would. Can’t you just picture the argument with the airline that they should be able to come with and fly for free!
We would watch as Zach begins to love these little guys, who by now he’s named after important figures of the French Revolution. We would laugh and cry with him. The Truman Show would have nothing on us. And when the ducklings grew old enough, they would fly away. As heartbroken as we and Zach might be, together we would have experienced the depth and transience of happiness, of life.
Such a tale will glow even the coldest heart.
Even though baby ducks are so sweet and would even adopt Zach as a mother, they are pretty messy and for that reason would cause quite a commotion wherever he happened to lead them.