At one point my stepdaughter and sons, arms crossed, threatened to boycott the entire day if I didn’t come up with something else, and watching “March of the Wooden Soldiers” was
not going to cut it!
In a panic, I said I had to go to the store for more stuff for them. I figured this would give me a few minutes to regroup and think this whole Easter thing over. At the very least, I had just
left four, angry, bored kids with my now least favorite ex-wife, and in the mood they were in (think ” Children of the Corn”) they could very well drive her to jump on a carving knife in the
kitchen.After taking her to Coney Island Hospital and cleaning up the blood, it would have taken up most of the day.
After fleeing the home and driving aimlessly up New Utrech Ave. I spotted a poultry market and braked to a screeching halt in front of it. I would buy a bunch of baby ducks…cute, furry, with little webbed feet, as though a box of “Peeps” had come to life. I pictured myself giving them out and receiving, in return, cool parental and hero status.
I also pictured long gray and white vertically striped baby duck droppings down the sides of the bathtub and any other place the kids decided to leave them which, once again my now least favorite ex-wife would wind up cleaning. This was a win-win situation and baby ducks for all it would be! ” I’ll take a dozen, ” I said. “No, make it two dozen so I can tell the kids they have a whole flock.”
Understand, I eat as much chicken and an occasional duck as often as the next guy, but to say, “Gee, slit that one’s throat,” is a bit much for me. If anything I would much rather get one that was whacked days earlier.
I was waiting my turn and looking at the ducks I was going to rescue when I heard what sounded like a child cry. I thought it was some little guy, upset because his mother just had a chicken offed, so I paid no attention to it. Then I heard it again, but instead of coming from a child, I realized the sound was coming from a small wooden crate!
I could not help but look in it, and saw a gang of tender baby goats, who were obviously far smarter than the chickens and other poultry who were oblivious to what was about to happen to them.