The ducks are lining up again, Nice neat rows, Waiting to attack. Me?
No, surely not. I give the commands. *I* give the commands?
They're stareing me down now, Bleak black beady eyes, With the glint of expectation.
Say something. What? Never the wrong words. Don’t ok an attack. “Attack.” The last word I can remember.
The last word I’ll ever remember. For the ducks, Dumb drones, Took their leader's word to heart. And I met a feathery death.
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