Jarvish and Gilbert sat in their sky dinghy reading bible verses from The Book of Quackery.
“You are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck,”
Gilbert cleared his mucus laden throat,
“and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck,”
Gilbert nearly choked on his dry esophagus,
“And I am the Duck, and I am the Duck, and I am the Goose as well, and shut the book syrup-ticiously, “Thus quacketh the Guck.”
Jarvish nodded, his eyes glazed as donuts, “Truly profound, Uncle Gilbert.”
“I’m glad you still find it so, Uncle Jarvish. Why, I remember the first time I read you that passage from the Insignificant Book, back when you were merely my nephew.”
Jarvish blinked, focusing his terrible vision poorly on Gilbert, “You do?”
Gilbert stared off into the clouds and sighed, “Not really, Uncle Jarvish, for my memory is rather terrible. However, picture if you will that I do.”
Jarvish squinted, trying to picture that Gilbert did, which was quite difficult when Gilbert had just said that truly he did not. However, Jarvish was well trained in this act. Soon enough his gaze slipped back into a drooling mush as he rowed through the milky clouds.
Gilbert, satisfied, set the book warmly in his crotch and rested his calloused palms on the side of the sky dinghy, squeezing the brittle wood as if it was a silky breast.
“Motherclucker!” screamed Gilbert, shaking his palm in the air. “A clucking splinter!”
Jarvish stared at Gilbert, wide eyed and shaking. “What the duck did you just say, Uncle Gilbert?”
“What the quack do you mean what the quack did I just say, Uncle Jarvish? You heard exquacktly what I said.”
“I did? Would you mind telling me anyways, Uncle Gilbert?”
“No, I would not mind, Uncle Jarvish. I would not mind in. The. Slightest. I said. Motherducker! A quacking splinter!”
Jarvish sighed and hocked a loogie over the side of the sky dinghy, whistfully watching it plummet through the air.
“Okay, Uncle Gilbert. Okay.”
“You seem uneasy, Uncle Jarvish.”
“Not at all. What have I to be uneasy about, Uncle Gilbert?”
KSSSSHHHKKHKHHHHH
A glass flask shaped in a boolean of cleavage had landed in the center of the sky dinghy and shattered, sending a flurry of painful rainbow prisms through the air.
“Holy clucking shit! That was clucking terrifying!!” Gilbert screeched.
Jarvish did a double take. He halted his sky rowing.
“What? Why have you stopped rowing, Uncle Jarvish?”
“You know why.”
“No, I haven’t an inkling.”
“What did you just say then, Uncle Jarvish?”
“I said ‘No, I haven’t an—’”
“No before that!”
“I said ‘What? Why have you stopped rowing,—’”
“Before that!
Gilbert’s eyes grew wide, nearly popping from their sockets. “I said ‘Holy quacking shit! That was quacking terrifying!!’”
Jarvish squinted into a glower, “That’s not what you said, Uncle Gilbert.”
“What do you mean? What the quack else would I have said, Uncle Jarvish?”
“I think you know exquactly what I’m talking about, Uncle Gilbert.”
“Well I think I don’t know exquacktly what you’re talking about, Uncle Jarvish.”
Jarvish picked up his sky oars and began rowing. “Well I think you thinking you don’t know exquactly what I’m talking about is an elaborate front, a mask if you will, from your true intentions. Uncle Gilbert.”
“Well I think you thinking me thinking I don’t know exquactly what you’re talking about is an elaborate front, a mask if I will, is totally quacked up! I’m your friend for cocksakes, Uncle J-Jarvish.”
Jarvish rowed faster. “I heard that.”
Gilbert stayed still, his eyes straining and his forehead dotting with beads of sweat.
Jarvish rolled his eyes and rowed faster. “Uncle Gilbert.”
“Heard what? The sound of your joints popping? You really ought to limber up before you break out into such uncontrolled rowing, Uncle Jarvish.”
Jarvish’s joints popped like corn as he threw his back into the rowing. “You. Really ought to. Limber up. Before you. Lie to me. Uncle. Gilbert.”
“What did I quacking lie about? What could I possibly have said? Uncle Jarvish?”
Jarvish’s face was red as a blue lobster dunked in a pool of blood. “You. Said. Cl. C-cl. Cl.”
“For quack’s sake spit it out, man!”
BBRRRRRKKKKKSSH
Jarvish sputtered and flopped and fell on his back as his right oar shattered into sticky wooden bits, caught in the grasp of a rather thick cloud. “CLUCK!”
Gilbert jiggled like a bowl of fungus. “Great quacking duck. What would the golden goose think of that, Uncle Jarvish? Are you relapsing deep into nephewhood? After all these years I can scarcely remember?”
“Quack off. You quacking said it three times already. You just keep trying to grasslight me Uncle Gilbert.”
“Me? Grasslight you? Why dearest Uncle Jarvish,” Gilbert inhaled croakily, “where did you ever hear of such an absurd concept?”
KSSHHHKKKSSHHSSHHHHH
Another glass flask, but this one broke over the top of Gilbert’s head. He stumbled face forward into Jarvish’s crotch, blood streaming from his badling forehead.
“Motherducker!” Gilbert spat, raising his shaking head and leaning back in terror. “What the cluck was that now? An attack from the golden goose for your heresy or something?”
“My heresy?” Jarvish raised an eyebrow. “Your heresy, Uncle Gilbert. Your ducking heresy! For cock’s sake you just said motherclucker!”
“Golden goose barely above water level, I can hardly believe my ears with such vile disquackery flowing through them.”
A dark shadow loomed above them, blotting out the mesmerizing glow of the pielight.
“Well well well,” chuckled a raspy, definitively evil voice, “What the clucking hen do we have here?”
Jarvish and Gilbert sat in their sky dinghy reading bible verses from The Book of Quackery.
“You are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck,”
Gilbert cleared his mucus laden throat,
“and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck, and you are the Duck,”
Gilbert nearly choked on his dry esophagus,
“And I am the Duck, and I am the Duck, and I am the Goose as well, and shut the book syrup-ticiously, “Thus quacketh the Guck.”
Jarvish nodded, his eyes glazed as donuts, “Truly profound, Uncle Gilbert.”
“I’m glad you still find it so, Uncle Jarvish. Why, I remember the first time I read you that passage from the Insignificant Book, back when you were merely my nephew.”
Jarvish blinked, focusing his terrible vision poorly on Gilbert, “You do?”
Gilbert stared off into the clouds and sighed, “Not really, Uncle Jarvish, for my memory is rather terrible. However, picture if you will that I do.”
Jarvish squinted, trying to picture that Gilbert did, which was quite difficult when Gilbert had just said that truly he did not. However, Jarvish was well trained in this act. Soon enough his gaze slipped back into a drooling mush as he rowed through the milky clouds.
Gilbert, satisfied, set the book warmly in his crotch and rested his calloused palms on the side of the sky dinghy, squeezing the brittle wood as if it was a silky breast.
“Motherclucker!” screamed Gilbert, shaking his palm in the air. “A clucking splinter!”
Jarvish stared at Gilbert, wide eyed and shaking. “What the duck did you just say, Uncle Gilbert?”
“What the quack do you mean what the quack did I just say, Uncle Jarvish? You heard exquacktly what I said.”
“I did? Would you mind telling me anyways, Uncle Gilbert?”
“No, I would not mind, Uncle Jarvish. I would not mind in. The. Slightest. I said. Motherducker! A quacking splinter!”
Jarvish sighed and hocked a loogie over the side of the sky dinghy, whistfully watching it plummet through the air.
“Okay, Uncle Gilbert. Okay.”
“You seem uneasy, Uncle Jarvish.”
“Not at all. What have I to be uneasy about, Uncle Gilbert?”
KSSSSHHHKKHKHHHHH
A glass flask shaped in a boolean of cleavage had landed in the center of the sky dinghy and shattered, sending a flurry of painful rainbow prisms through the air.
“Holy clucking shit! That was clucking terrifying!!” Gilbert screeched.
Jarvish did a double take. He halted his sky rowing.
“What? Why have you stopped rowing, Uncle Jarvish?”
“You know why.”
“No, I haven’t an inkling.”
“What did you just say then, Uncle Jarvish?”
“I said ‘No, I haven’t an—’”
“No before that!”
“I said ‘What? Why have you stopped rowing,—’”
“Before that!
Gilbert’s eyes grew wide, nearly popping from their sockets. “I said ‘Holy quacking shit! That was quacking terrifying!!’”
Jarvish squinted into a glower, “That’s not what you said, Uncle Gilbert.”
“What do you mean? What the quack else would I have said, Uncle Jarvish?”
“I think you know exquactly what I’m talking about, Uncle Gilbert.”
“Well I think I don’t know exquacktly what you’re talking about, Uncle Jarvish.”
Jarvish picked up his sky oars and began rowing. “Well I think you thinking you don’t know exquactly what I’m talking about is an elaborate front, a mask if you will, from your true intentions. Uncle Gilbert.”
“Well I think you thinking me thinking I don’t know exquactly what you’re talking about is an elaborate front, a mask if I will, is totally quacked up! I’m your friend for cocksakes, Uncle J-Jarvish.”
Jarvish rowed faster. “I heard that.”
Gilbert stayed still, his eyes straining and his forehead dotting with beads of sweat.
Jarvish rolled his eyes and rowed faster. “Uncle Gilbert.”
“Heard what? The sound of your joints popping? You really ought to limber up before you break out into such uncontrolled rowing, Uncle Jarvish.”
Jarvish’s joints popped like corn as he threw his back into the rowing. “You. Really ought to. Limber up. Before you. Lie to me. Uncle. Gilbert.”
“What did I quacking lie about? What could I possibly have said? Uncle Jarvish?”
Jarvish’s face was red as a blue lobster dunked in a pool of blood. “You. Said. Cl. C-cl. Cl.”
“For quack’s sake spit it out, man!”
BBRRRRRKKKKKSSH
Jarvish sputtered and flopped and fell on his back as his right oar shattered into sticky wooden bits, caught in the grasp of a rather thick cloud. “CLUCK!”
Gilbert jiggled like a bowl of fungus. “Great quacking duck. What would the golden goose think of that, Uncle Jarvish? Are you relapsing deep into nephewhood? After all these years I can scarcely remember?”
“Quack off. You quacking said it three times already. You just keep trying to grasslight me Uncle Gilbert.”
“Me? Grasslight you? Why dearest Uncle Jarvish,” Gilbert inhaled croakily, “where did you ever hear of such an absurd concept?”
KSSHHHKKKSSHHSSHHHHH
Another glass flask, but this one broke over the top of Gilbert’s head. He stumbled face forward into Jarvish’s crotch, blood streaming from his badling forehead.
“Motherducker!” Gilbert spat, raising his shaking head and leaning back in terror. “What the cluck was that now? An attack from the golden goose for your heresy or something?”
“My heresy?” Jarvish raised an eyebrow. “Your heresy, Uncle Gilbert. Your ducking heresy! For cock’s sake you just said motherclucker!”
“Golden goose barely above water level, I can hardly believe my ears with such vile disquackery flowing through them.”
A dark shadow loomed above them, blotting out the mesmerizing glow of the pielight.
“Well well well,” chuckled a raspy, definitively evil voice, “What the clucking hen do we have here?”
