They walked back through the park slowly, 'cause Chas couldn't wait until they got back to the house to eat their chips. It had turned into a lovely evening now that the wind had blown itself out to sea. They sat themselves down on a park bench that overlooked the duck pond and ate, watching the antics of the ducks, and the people feeding them.
"We're going to get mugged in a minute," Nics warned watching as a group of half a dozen ducks waddled towards them menacingly.
Chas was too busy scoffing chips to be able to say anything coherent.
A young boy caught Nics’ attention. He was about four or five, and was running along the path, a slice of bread clutched in one hand. He was chasing two or three ducks that were frantically waddling along at top speed in front of him, his other hand was occupied with ripping bits from the slice of bread and throwing them at the ducks with all the force in his young arms.
He was laughing uproariously the whole time. Behind him, keeping one eye on him, and busy gossiping intently, was a pair of middle-aged women. One of them was pushing a pushchair with a baby in it, sound asleep. The other carried an empty bread bag.
A shrill scream from the baby made Chas look over at it.
"Damn," he said in a low voice to Nics. "Is it just me, or does that brat look like a piglet in a romper suit?"
"Shhh..." Nics giggled.
The ducks dove for the water, and the boy stood at the edge, still throwing bits of bread at them. They obviously felt safer there, because they didn't swim away, but gobbled at the bread as it rained down on them.
"He's going to be for it, when he grows up," Nics said to Chas, indicating the boy. "One day, when he least expects it, the ninja ducks will be after him. One quack, and that's it, he's a goner. And no one will ever find out the reason."
"You've been watching that Badly Drawn Boy video too often," said Chas, before taking a large mouthful of his pie.
Nics looked blank.
“You know,” he prompted, “the one where the duck ruins the entire life of the lead singer?”
Nics still looked blank.
“Oh, nevermind,” Chas said.
"No," she said, carrying on as if that brief conversation on pop culture had never happened. "I'm serious. Ducks are part of a vast conspiracy to rule over the universe and make every living thing bow to their every wish. They're a lot cleverer than people think."
"I thought it was cats who were the real danger."
"Well, no, not really. I mean, everyone knows that cats are evil and out to take over the world, and that's because the cats are just too damn smug for their own good. That comes through, and it means people end up watching them. So cats'll never take over the world. Humans are onto them. And so are the dogs, for that matter."
"Go dogs! But you were saying that it was bunnies last week..."
"Bunnies, well, they used to be creeping up on the ducks in the world domination league tables. They had it down perfect, they're cute, and fluffy, and pets in thousands of homes all over the world. They've also got wild breeding colonies in the damndest of places! Have you seen the amount of rabbits hanging around the biology department? I'm sure they're using the latest gene splicing techniques to breed unstoppable killer mutant radioactive bunnies. You've seen the damn things, they're huge!!"
Chas nodded, not very surreptitiously snaking his hand across to grab Nics's can of coke.
"Confusion to your enemies," he said by way of a toast, putting the can back down again.
Their attendant ducks tracked the movement of his hand. One quacked, almost like a question.
"And if you've ever seen anyone who's been brainwashed by them, well, it's not a pretty sight at all, let me tell you! Case in point?"
Their eyes met, and they spoke simultaneously:
"Rachel."
"You betcha. But bunnies had a bit of a slip up, not so long ago. A really really damaging bit of press got leaked about them. Sure, they managed to salvage the situation somewhat by claiming it was fiction, but "Watership Down" cost them big time. I think it was the cats' work myself, that bit of skulduggery practically reeks of them. A dog would just eat you, a cat will play with you, then destroy you in the most painful manner possible."
Nics paused, picked up the can and had a drink, then went back to her original topic.
"Ducks now, they're the unquestioned kings of the world domination league. Because no one ever suspects them! Over the years they've carefully cultivated this aura of air headed innocence. Water off the duck's back, they say, nothing bothers them. At all, ever. And yet, they're the sneakiest fowl around. Have you ever seen any ninja ducks?"
"Nope," said Chas, grinning widely.
"There!" she said, waving her hands wildly, one hand clutching a drooping chip. "Proves my point completely!"
By now they had an even bigger audience. The little boy had been dragged off by the two women with the piglet in the pushchair, and the ducks that he had been tormenting had ventured back onto dry land. They joined the group already crowded around the couple, beady avian eyes staring at the white paper on their laps, and each chip that went from lap to mouth.
"Why do you think ducks are the only wild animals on the road that cars have to give way to? Why do you think there are swarms of humans who go down to the ponds and rivers every day to throw their offerings of bread?"
The hand with the chip swept the area in a grand gesture, spoilt only by the chip breaking it in half and falling to the ground. A younger duck darted forward and grabbed it, gulping it down quickly. It didn't retreat again, just kept watching Nics's hand as it waved about in time with her declarations.
"Do you really think ducks fly south for the winter?"
Chas shrugged. "'Spose so."
"Don't be silly," she retorted. "It's all a cunningly engineered ploy. Sure, ducks can fly, but they much prefer to swim. And when you see a duck feeding bottom up next time, watch very carefully. If you're very lucky, you might see one dive and not come up again, he's gone down into the duck secret underwater hidden lair."
Another chip dropped from her lap to the ground. This time there was a veritable melee at her feet as ducks raced in to grab it. A feather floated up in front of her nose, and she sneezed.
"Of course, you'll be very lucky to see that happening," she snuffled, searching in her pockets for a tissue and shuffling her feet gingerly away from the ducks. "Ducks are masters of disguise and confusion. And they always travel in groups. That's so that they can slip off one by one, without causing any comment from us oblivious humans.
"And baby ducklings being cute is a cynically derived and manipulated trait, designed to take advantage of practically everyone."
Chas was grinning widely.
"Aren't you talking a bit too much about ducks and their plans for world domination? Look who's listening."
To her credit, there wasn't even a hint of mental gear clashing.
"Ah, to be fair, ducks are probably the one species that I wouldn't mind too much having world domination. It's not like they're rabid carnivores or anything. Now cats would be absolutely terrifying! I think I'd try to leave the planet if the cats ever stopped in-fighting long enough to get organised. Let myself get used as a scratching post? Urgh! No thank you!!"
"Hmmm," mused Chas. "I'm with you on that. Being ruled by Catbert - no thanks!"
"I can't see ducks being tyrants," she said, throwing the remnants of her chips to the group at her feet. A particularly vicious attack by one duck on another with regards to ownership of a chip made her wince.
"Although, I could be wrong..."
All the food eaten, they both stood up, scrunching the chip paper up into balls, and wiping their greasy fingers on the paper napkins provided. The ducks waddled off, their next target acquired, an elderly gentleman with a six-foot long walking staff and a small wheelbarrow.
Chas chucked their rubbish into a nearby litterbin.
"I thought Douglas Adams said that it was mice who ruled the world."
"No, they don't rule the world, they're just experimenting on it. It's ducks who are trying to take it over. Trust me."
"Alright, I trust you. Even when you're being weird."
He grinned at her as she squealed in mock outrage. Laughing, they walked home arm-in-arm, past a young woman blowing bubbles for her very overexcited and happy Springer spaniel.
Once in the door Chas was all business. He was straight up the stairs as Nics went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
There was a pan full of water in the sink, with the burned on remnants of baked beans encrusted on the inside. The counter top was covered in stuff, a pat of butter half melted in its wrapper, three dirty coffee cups and an opened jar of coffee competed with the toast crumbs for mastery of the kitchen surface.
Nics took one look and raised her head to yell to the room directly above her head:
"Spud!"
The loud Rasta music didn't change in volume. She tried again:
"SPUD!!"
The music still didn't change, but she heard footsteps upstairs and a door being hammered on.
A few minutes later the volume dropped dramatically, and feet could be heard coming down the stairs.
Spud showed his sleepy-looking face at the door, rolled up cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Nics didn't have to say anything, she just looked at him deliberately, then switched her gaze to the mess in the kitchen. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest and she did not look happy.
"Sorry," Spud mumbled as he tried to shuffle around her. "Thought you'd gone to choir, and I'd have time later to clean up."
"All I want," she said in a very even and measured tone, "is a cup of herbal tea before I do go out. That's all."
Spud gratefully seized his opportunity.
"I'll make you one, don't worry. And the place will be spotless by the time you get back - promise!"
"Alright," she said. "I'll be in the living room."
She turned to walk out of the kitchen, remembered something.
"Spud?"
"Huh?"
"Please don't smoke in the kitchen."
He snatched the offending dog-end from his mouth and hid it futilely in his hand.
"Sorry..."
Chas met her in the hall, dressed in his work clothes, a black suit and white shirt. He saw her glower and said:
"It's alright, I've had a word. He'll clean it up before you get back."
"He'd better! Or I'll set the ninja ducks on him!"
"He will - he's too scared of you not to!"
Despite herself, she smiled.
"Got to go now, babes," he said. "You have a good time singing now!"
"You too, have fun bouncing people."
"Oh, I will," he said, flexing his hands and trying to look evil. She couldn't help but laugh, he didn't look evil so much as mischievous.
His expression changed to wounded innocence, then an impish grin. With a kiss and a wave, he was out the door and gone until some ungodly hour the next morning.
A cracked mug of steaming tea was waved in front of her.
"Your herbal tea," said Spud.
"Thanks," she said, favouring him with a brilliant smile.
He fled up the stairs, back to his room, a mixture of worry and pleased confusion.
Nics just grinned to herself. Then she took a mouthful of the tea, grimaced and poured it down the sink. Peppermint tea is lovely, but not with half a pint of cream in it.
She opened the door to a bored looking pizza deliveryman.
"Pizza?" he asked.
"Not me," she said. "SPUD! Pizza!"
And she left the house as Spud legged it down the stairs.
"Medium pizza with extra garlic, hot sausage and banana mate?"
"Cheers!"
She grimaced.
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