Herman and Me

I brought Herman an egg salad sandwich and sat on the front porch, watching him peck at it. He was a rather dumb duck and would eat almost anything, but I especially admired his love for egg salad sandwiches. He would go for the chunks with the most mayo first, scooping them up in his bill and swallowing them whole.

We had moved to our little suburban ranch house after my parents divorced. Mom ran off with some creepy-looking air conditioner repair guy, and Dad went batshit crazy. At first, I thought that the storming around the house while growling out "I Will Survive" was just a stage. But then the dogs came. He'd scour Petfinder for hours, and every week or so he'd bring home a new one.

Herman didn't like the dogs. So we had to go. But we were a pair of young bachelors, ready for some excitement in our lives that didn't involve dog shit on our bed. I would find a nice girl to settle down with, and Herman would find a Daisy look-alike. Together, we'd raise our children and ducklings.

Herman finished shredding the bread and gulped it down. He waddled over to me and rested his head on my knee as if to say, "Thanks, Joe. You're the nicest human ever." I stroked his feathery head and smiled.

A rusty yellow car sputtered down our road and pulled into the driveway. A teenage girl wearing glasses and a Labyrinth t-shirt stepped out. She paused, pulling her long brown hair into a ponytail before walking toward me, carrying a big brown paper bag.

"Are you Joe Puttanesca?" She asked. The bag in her hands quacked, and Herman's eyes widened.

"It's Puttaniski," I said, "but that's close enough. Is that a female you've got in the bag?"

"This is Clarice," she said, lifting a young, sleek white duck out of the bag and setting her by Herman. "She's yours for five bucks."

"Well, what do you think, Herman?" I asked him. "You got five bucks?" Herman waddled over to Clarice and poked her gently with his bill. "It's ok," I said, pulling out my wallet, "This is an early birthday present."

I handed the girl the five, and she smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Puttachinski," she said, then walked back to her car.

"Wait!" I yelled. "It's Puttaniski!"

"Sorry," she said, getting back into her car. "Bye, Clarice!"

"Wait!" I said again, but she was too busy starting up the engine to hear me. "I love you!" I hollered as she pulled out of my driveway. I considered running after her, but she probably wouldn't have stopped.

I looked down at Herman and Clarice, who waddled on the lawn together, happy as... ducks. My heart ached. Or maybe it was my stomach. I hoped their eggs would be delicious.