I used to love watching the ducks at my local park. Hell, I used to love ducks. Not anymore, not after what happened.
I’m a bit of a loner. Even here, in the big city, I’m more torn towards walking the park than hanging out and socializing with friends.
One day, when I came to rest on one of the many park benches, I noticed a flock of ducks nearby. They were loud, but happily going about their life, quacking and walking around without a care in the world. It was fun, and strangely relaxing to watch them.
Once I was back home, I did some research on ducks online, specifically about what to feed them. When I went to the park the next time, I’d brought along a bag of bird seeds. The moment I threw them on the ground, the ducks began swarming me.
I came to enjoy those little visits, and from then on, I’d often sit on that same bench, giving treats to the ducks.
A couple of weeks ago, he first showed up. Like so often, I was sitting on the bench, feeding the ducks, when someone sat down next to me. Well, it was a park bench, after all. While I was uncomfortable having a stranger sit next to me, I did my best to ignore him. From the corner of my eye, I noticed how disheveled the guy looked. His clothes were wrinkly and somewhat dirty, his hair unkempt and clinging to his head in greasy strands. The longer he sat there, quietly staring ahead, the more awkward I felt. Almost by instinct, I inched further and further away from him until I was sitting at the furthest edge of the bench. Thankfully, after only a couple of minutes, the guy got back up and continued on his way.
A few days later, the same thing happened again. It was strangely unnerving having this guy set next to me again. The first time had felt like nothing but a chance encounter, the second felt much less so.
Don’t let it get to you. Who knows, maybe he just enjoys sitting here watching the ducks, too. Suddenly, I noticed him staring at me. I almost jumped back when I saw his probing eyes focused directly on me.
“Did you know male ducks have corkscrew penises that can spring from their body in the blink of an eye?”
“W-what?”
“Random duck-fact number fourteen,” the guy proclaimed with a bright smile, giving me a little wink.
Before I could say anything else or even react, he got up and went on his way. I was left there, flabbergasted, staring after him.
All right, what the hell just happened? Freaking weirdo!
When I made it home that evening, I couldn’t get the strange encounter out of my head. The same was true for what he’d told me. It wasn’t long before I googled it and found out that it was actually true. Damn, nature sure can be disturbing.
Yet I couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would go around spreading crap like this. The hell was wrong with this guy?
The next time I walked through the park, I couldn’t help but be apprehensive. What if that guy would be back? He didn’t seem dangerous, just strange, but it was enough to ruin the mood. I just wanted to relax a little after a hard day at work.
That day, he didn’t show up. Who knows, maybe it really had been nothing but a chance encounter.
It wasn’t.
A few days later, he was there again, and joined me the moment I’d sat down. I tried my best to ignore him, but after a few minutes, he was staring at me again. The moment I turned to him, to ask him what the hell his problem was, he spoke up.
“Did you know a group of ducks can be called a raft, a team, or a paddling?”
This time, he didn’t get up right away, but kept staring at me.
“Eh, thanks,” I mumbled, growing more and more uncomfortable.
“Random duck-fact number two,” he said, giving me another wink before he left.
All right, this guy was clearly some idiot who was trying to mess with me. It was only a matter of time before he’d lose interest. As if to challenge me, the guy kept showing up every single time I went to the park, telling me another one of his random duck-facts.
“Did you know only three percent of birds have penises, and ducks are part of those three percent?”
“Did you know female ducks have corkscrew vaginas?”
“Did you know male ducks are notoriously aggressive, forcing themselves on females violently?”
Each time he told me these facts, he stared at me with the same wide eyes, but his expression was slowly changing. What had seemed a normal, albeit awkward, smile, had grown into a wide, sickening grin. The guy was clearly enjoying this, and I couldn’t deny that he was starting to scare me. Still, I wouldn’t give up on the park, the bench and the ducks just because of a random weirdo.
Yet whenever I was back, I couldn’t help but look around, scanning the area to see if this madman was somewhere nearby. I could never see him, though, almost as if he was hiding, only to come down the moment I’d made it to the bench.
One day, I had enough. As so often, I’d just arrived, only to see him shambling in my direction, his face already distorted by that huge, ghastly grin of his. Before he could sit down, I picked up the bag of bird seeds, and was about to get out of there. Fuck it, I thought, enough is enough. Not going to deal with this shit anymore.
I’d taken only a handful of steps when I felt a hand closing around my wrist.
“You can’t leave,” he brought out in an over-exaggerated, serious voice. “The ducks need to be fed!”
In shock and not a tad bit angry, I jerked around, only to find the guy leaning forward, his face co close to mine, our foreheads almost touched. His eyes were wide, staring deep into mine. For a second I froze up, but then I tore myself from his grip and stumbled away.
“Freaking hell, man! The fuck’s your problem!? Feed the damned ducks yourself!” I yelled at him and threw the bag of bird seeds in front of his feet.
As I walked away, however, I could feel the guy’s eyes digging into my back. As much as I told myself it was just my imagination, I couldn’t help but turn around. He was still standing there, staring after me, and hadn’t even touched the seeds. Just keep walking, I told myself, but I couldn’t help but turn around again and again. He was still there, still hadn’t moved, not even an inch. Only when I was out of sight was I able to calm down. Freaking hell. That’s it, no more park for me.
I’d thought this was the end, but it should only be the beginning.
A week after my last visit to the park, I found a picture of a duck inside my mailbox. I couldn’t help but frown, and the first thing that came to my mind was the crazy man from the park. It couldn’t be, I told myself. He didn’t even know where I live, didn’t he? For a moment, my eyes darted around, half-expecting to find him standing nearby, grinning at me. When I saw nothing, I told myself it had to be a coincidence. Maybe it was a neighbor’s idea of a joke, or some sort of marketing campaign? And yet, as I stared at it, at the picture of a normal freaking duck, I couldn’t help but grow anxious.
A few days later, after I’d gotten up in the morning, and went out onto the balcony to have a smoke, I found it covered in bird seeds. I was back inside in an instant, throwing the balcony door behind me. This was no coincidence anymore! That’s the reason I didn’t want a freaking apartment on the ground floor to begin with!
When I found a note taped to my front door stating the ducks were hungry, I had it. The moment I was back inside, I called the police. I told them about the entire thing. The strange run-ins at the park, the weird way the guy had stared at me, and what I could only describe as stalking. They eyed me curiously, but from the look on their faces, I knew what they were going to say.
“There’s nothing we can do at the moment, but we’ll keep our eyes open. If he shows up again, please give us a call.”
Well, thanks for nothing!
In the days to come, more pictures of ducks arrived, and other, weirder things found their way into my mailbox. One morning, I pulled out what had to be dozens of duck feathers, the next, I found a coupon for a special sale at the pet store inside. Every single time I found one of the guy’s weird presents, I threw them away. It was clear he wanted to get a reaction out of me. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder why. Why was he doing this, and why he was he doing it to me? Was it really just because I liked ducks? Either way, I told myself not to let it get to me, still hoping that he’d leave me alone, eventually.
He didn’t and when I found a dead duck on my balcony, it got to me. Next to it, I found a small note.
‘This happens when you aren’t taking care of them,’ it said.
Stupid pictures and stupid messages were one thing, but dead animals, animals he’d probably killed himself, were an entirely different story. This time, the police took it seriously, and told me they’d station someone nearby, and keep a lookout for anyone fitting the guy’s description. With that, I thought the issue was settled, and for an entire week, nothing happened. No more pictures or weird messages, no more things in my mailbox, and nothing on my balcony.
Then, one evening, while I was watching a movie, I was distracted by strange sounds. At first, I thought it came from the apartment of one of my neighbors, but when I turned the movie down, I could’ve sworn it sounded like the quacking of a duck. An icy shiver went down my spine, and I rushed to the balcony right away, thinking the guy might have thrown a live duck on it, but I saw nothing.
When I listened again, I could still hear it. It was quiet and muffled. For a moment, my eyes darted around the apartment before I could pinpoint it. Outside, in the hallway. As quietly as I could, I tiptoed to my front door and checked the spyglass. Instead of the hallway, or some crazy guy, all I saw was a picture of a duck plastered over it.
This time, my fear was pushed aside by anger. I ripped open the door to see if he was still nearby. The moment I did, however, all my anger evaporated and was replaced by surprise and confusion. He was right there, in the center of the hallway, but he was wearing a freaking… duck costume. For a moment, a half-insane laugh escaped my mouth. Just what the hell was going on here?
When the guy saw me, he quacked again, flapped his fake wings and charged me.
“What the absolute-?!” was all I could bring out before his body crashed into mine.
I was thrown off my feet, and all the air was driven from my lungs when I landed on the floor. For a moment, dark spots appeared in front of my eyes. Then he was upon me, beating me with his fake wings in seemingly boundless rage.
“Did you know male ducks are notoriously aggressive, forcing themselves on females violently?” he screamed while he hit me with the fake wings again and again.
I cursed in pain and brought up my arms to protect myself from his assault. When he stopped to catch his breath, I managed to push him off me, and retreated to the back of the apartment. Behind me, he began quacking again, flapping his wings and preparing for another assault. By then, I’d gotten a hold of an empty glass bottle, staring him dead in the eyes.
“Get the fuck out of here, or I swear, I’m going to-“
My voice trailed off when the crotch area of his costume popped open. What the fuck was he doing now? Was he taking out his…?
“Did you know ducks have corkscrew penises that can spring from their bodies in the blink of an eye?” he screamed at me.
My thoughts were cut off by what I saw. It was madness, pure and utter madness. I’d thought he’d taken out his penis, that he was some freak of nature who was about to get naked, but I realized what I saw was some sort of machination that was part of the costume. In the half-light of the apartment, I could only stare at the corkscrew between his legs.
“The duckman cometh!” the guy screamed, thrusting his hips forward, and a moment later, the corkscrew shot out in my direction.
I threw myself aside, barely dodging the contraption that I now realized was some sort of rope gun. Having missed his attack, he quacked again, angrier now, his face contorted by rage. This time, however, I was faster. When he charged me again, flapping his wings, I brought the glass bottle down on his head with all the force I could muster. The guy staggered, still grinning.
“Did you know ducks…” he mumbled before he fell over.
I just stood there, staring at his unconscious body, trying to fathom what had just happened.
It wasn’t long before the police arrived. Some of my neighbors had heard the commotion and informed them. Thankfully, they remembered what I’d told them before, and when I explained what had happened, they were quick to apprehend the guy.
By now, I’m still waiting for information on what exactly was wrong with him, and why he’d decided to come after me. One thing’s for sure, though, I can never look at ducks the same way again, and I never want to hear another thing about goddamn corkscrew penises.
