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Update From Bangkok

March 5, 2010

So you have already seen some of Mitchell Burbick’s photos on nonplussed(+) but now it’s Mitch’s other half Lauren Schade’s turn! Check out these amazing pictures that she took from Bangkok followed by a story from Mitch. You can also check out Lauren’s blog @ only drops. My vote goes to this couple for being the most awesome and I promise there will be more to see/read/hear from these two.




photos by Lauren Schade

Quack the Duck by Mitchell Burbick

Quack the duck was a mean little duck.

She bit a child who tried to feed her bread.

Actually she ate the bread and then bit the child.

The child’s name was Julian, and Julian tearfully told his mother what Quack had done.

His mother however told him to be stupid, put him the front seat of the car where he continued to cry, and then they left the park.

The next person Quack bit was an elderly man named Brian whose wife had recently passed away.

After eating Brian’s bread, Quack bit the little finger on Brian’s right hand.

Brian, normally a pretty easy going man, became quite angry at Quack and swatted her right in the head with the back of his hand.

Quack, somewhat surprisingly, did not Quack.

In fact, Quack hardly ever quacked.

The only time she could ever remember having done so was when she was still just a duckling and had watched her mother be run over by a teenage driving student in a white Honda Civic.

Being the mean little duck she was however, Quack did not learn her lesson and continued biting those people charitable enough to bring bread to the park, and people, being the dumb unlearning people they were, did not learn their lesson and continued feeding that mean little duck named Quack.

For a year or two, Quack, by any standards, lived a pretty good life filled with eating bread and biting hands.

All good things come to an end however, and Quack’s life was no exception.

The last person Quack bit, coincidentally, was the young boy named Julian.

She bit him on the back of his left leg after eating the bread he gave her and when he told his mother what Quack had done she told him not to be stupid, put him in the front seat of the car and then they left the park.

Quack that night, slept soundly in her small nest next to the river.

If there was ever a moment in Quack’s life where she came closest to recognizing happiness, it may have well been that night, when her stomach was full and her sleep peaceful next to the gently lapping water.

The next day, county employees by mandate of the state drove to the park Quack lived in, and caught Quack and several other ducks, not all of who were mean, by throwing large nets over them when they weren’t looking.

This wasn’t especially difficult, because they were after all, ducks.

The captured ducks were then loaded into the back of a nondescript white truck with government plates and an upright camper shell. The county employees drove to a nondescript municipal building where Quack and the other ducks were taken from the back of the truck and placed in cages.

Quack waited in a cage for most of the day until she was placed in an airtight room where gas slowly replaced air, and where Quack died a rather undignified death marked by gargled quacks, involuntary wing flapping, and ultimately, right before she lost consciousness, the evacuation of her bowels.

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