The Lair

This is an odd post. By which I don’t mean, not an even post, but rather … the content is deliberately somewhat screwy. More screwy than normal. If you haven’t met me in real life, you may not understand any of this. Even if you have met me in real life, you may not understand it. That’s ok. This is my day for wasting your bandwidth. Deal. Normal service will resume once my promise to a cartoon character has been discharged.

It was an odd name to call him. Everyone agreed on that point. But then, he was an odd customer. No one was really sure why the far more trendy X was eschewed (see: Perdita X. Well, it worked for her, didn’t it ?). But the fact of the matter is that mysterious-hypothetical-twelfth-planet-boy or southern-babylonian-era-deity-boy just don’t roll off the tongue as sweetly. It also makes for awkward questions, spelling mistakes and more destruction of trees when suspicious bureaucrats fill in forms for one thing or the other. So, for the purposes of this explanation, let us call our hero Kudram. This then, is a story about Kudram and his duck.

It has been said that Kudram was no ugly duckling, but that might well have been because people saw his pet before they saw him. Be that as it may, Kudram led a mostly innocuous existence, punctuated briefly by odd occurences. Oh, he didn’t have a brutal cousin who terrorized him, he was (as far as we know) not an orphan. He certainly didn’t have some oddly shaped scar on his forehead (although oddly shaped is perhaps a compliment when referring to the shape of his head). He didn’t, in fact, talk to snakes or do any of the things we’ve now come to expect from young wizards in bud. He did, however, talk to his duck. Or, as he claims, his duck talked to him. Now, I’m certainly no promoter of scales over feathers, but it must be conceded that a quack is definitely not the same as a hiss, even to a blind horse. It is, therefore, unsurprising that Kudram’s peers treated news of this occurence with a degree of unseemly derision. If a duck quacks in the woods and no one is around to hear it ….it must have been Kudram’s duck.

Although utterly incapable of playing first person shooters (a mandatory requirement for young wizards in bud), Kudram (and his duck) had one saving grace. He was capable of tolerating an inordinate amount of abuse. In the light of his species affiliation, this was probably a good thing. It is uncommonly difficult to tell people to back off because I’m gonna sic my duck on ya.. Yah!. People… just refuse to take things with beaks and yellow feathers that seriously. As a result, Kudram spent many hours in that happy place, pretending he was not the grope puppet or sock puppet or any other type of unhappy rodent.

It’s often said that behind every man, even a monarch, there is a good woman. Or something. Well, Kudram already had (Editorial note: the author intended this in a possessive and not necessarily a carnal sense, although nothing can be ruled out) a duck, so he turned up slightly short and squeaky in the female stakes. See ? It all balances out, somewhere. Although, it must be said that given the short and squeaky nature of this balance, having this good woman behind Kudram merely serves as good concealment. This good woman, in the grand tradition of names which make little sense; a theme which occurs frequently often throughout once before in this story, was named Egas. I have insufficient information to completely dismiss flatulence related reasons for such a bizarre name. Once again, our wizarding consort meme falls depressingly flat on its’ face. Egas is not red haired, does not have a surname of Weasley and probably wouldn’t know a Bat Bogey Hex from a dark cave mouth. She does, however, possess the veritable energy of a lemming poised to do some cliff diving, a morbid fascination with rodents (being given enemas!) which formed the basis of her attraction to the unfortunate Kudram and an optimistic outlook on life. She also thinks that she’d hold up well under torture - which may or may not mean anything. Given the tendency of the duck to perform some nasty BDSM moves on its’ unfortunate owner, however, we suspect it might just come in handy.

In keeping with the fine traditions of wizardly love, this courtship began with an exchange of compliments on the fine bone structure of each others’ elbows and and shins. Yes, I said bone structure. I meant exactly that, pervs. It continued apace with the penning of missives popularly known as MardyPootry™. Veritable sonnets of love, these. With nary a quack to be heard inbetween. Naked shin wet dreams followed as platonic, wizardly love gave way to riproaring, bodice ripping demonaic hormonal lust. And that’s where things started to go a little … umm .. uh … grape shaped. Because in a mini frenzy of hormonally charged passion, Egas made a promise that would shake the duck’s world to the core.

Nine. That’s how many kids we’re going to have… nine. Can you imagine that ?

No, Kudram couldn’t. And neither could the duck. And what the duck was doing witnessing this mini frenzy of passion, we shall leave to the imagination.. but anyway, moving swiftly on past that regrettable act of voyeurism, that moment was when the duck did a Iago.

This duck had been Kudram’s sole companion through thick and thin. Through zen moments and sheer depression, through terror and fear, through ill advised fashion sense in the form of transparent pants .. the duck has been the bobbing rubber ducky of equanimity on the roiling bath tub of Kudram angst. And if truth be told, the duck had gotten just a little bit accustomed to the screaming groupies that now dogged Kudram’s footsteps. Especially in Japan. The duck was hot stuff in Japan. And now, it’s position of dominance was being threatened by some other midget duck. Hah. He wasn’t having it. It was time for action. The world wasn’t big enough for 9 midget Kudrams with squeaky voices. It was time to nip this affair in the bud. It was time to pour ice water on the shins and elbows (at the very least) of the lovelorn pair.

How the duck accomplished his deviousness, dear reader, is worthy of Machchiavelli. It would certainly take too long to recount here. You have work, I have work and I simply can’t be bothered. Suffice to say then, that ducks are a devious breed of winged bird. And what was meant to be was ripped asunder by the trickery of an insecure yellowed feathered quack.

And this is why Egas now has a special compartment in her wallet. As a token of remembrance, she holds MardyMoney™ close to her .. er. uhm.. well, anyway, she has it in her wallet, ok ? No amount of inducement, not even the finest jooses can tempt her to part with this keepsake. And she whiles her time away in conclave, waiting for the Kudram that could. That might have been.

And Kudram ? He toils away with a duck on his back.