Do me a favor and hold this duck, I'll explain

Do me a favor and hold this duck, I'll explain later. (Step, step, step, step, step, cah-click, wheeer, Kah-KLUNK!)

Mr. Mallard and his family lived in the pond on front of my office. They were official greeters for my customers. I returned with a coloured bin of small books, giving all of

the ducklings the chance to learn to read. And learn they did. They got so good at it they soon became interested in attending school. Imagine 8 ducklings in primary school. It was

bedlam. The teacher was at her wits end. It was hard enough teaching 25 children, without the added problem of teaching ducklings arithmetic. Their lack of hands made writing di

sgustingly messy, as the ducklings had taken to rolling themselves around on the paper, splattering ink all over the questions. Finally, much to the teacher's relief, the principal

burst into the classroom wielding an AK47 and shot the ducklings into microscopic pieces. Blood and feathers flew and spattered across the blackboard, the teacher, and the students

as they shrieked, ducking. A few children started to cry, and the teacher stood frozen. They knew were coming for them next. So as one girl unfolded her wings to fly, we shot them.

"That tears it!" God boomed at us, "Stop shooting down my angels! We cannot afford downtime!" And with that, the guns in our hands melted, leaving nasty burns. Then God gathered up

Drinking Mai Tais out of a dragon's skull while "sprinkling" the lawn with warm miracles and manna from heaven but was really his crotch. God crabs were nothing to sneeze at.