A DUCK'S MEMOIRS


1920. My first try at breaking into show biz. Left to right : Charlie Chaplain, me, Jackie Coogan. Most of my scenes were left on the cutting room floor, which is too bad, because I felt that my portrayal of the kid's toy duck was one of the better toy-duck characters seen in Hollywood.

Shortly after my quick stint in show business and my prompt firing (the reason given was 'lack of arms'), I went into a period of my life known as 'The Angry Years', during which I ran with the Chicago mafia for awhile. Pictured here, I was Capone's right hand duck, in charge of all illegally shaped bath soaps smuggled into the country. I helped Elliot Ness take him down in the end, in return for my freedom. I'll miss the nice squeeze toy moll Capone had set up for me.

This is Elvis. I'm in the back, manning the drums while the King does what he does best. I got to jam with him for a few gigs, but then I lost the job as I usually do... they finally noticed my lack of arms after the third straight concert with no drum accompaniment. Still, these were days that I'll always look back upon fondly... uh-uh-huh.

During the 80s, I made my second try into the music industry by touring with Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band. Here I was riding the Boss's head one night during a particularly wild gig. When Bruce departed E-Street, I decided to follow him and leave the rest of the band behind. Unfortunately, a small dog found me and dragged me off to some New York apartment before I could hop a plane to fame and fortune with Bruce. Oh well. I'm hoping for a Duck/Springsteen Reunion Tour sometime in the future.

After the affair with Bruce, I decided to try my hand at politics. I tagged along on the Republican campaign curcuit for awhile, and they were very happy to have a member of the rare 'Yellow and Rubber' minority. However, I realized two things : They only wanted me because of my color, and they still supported automatic machine guns for duck hunters. So, I left my party behind and went Independent. I think it's really sad that one's pigment matters so much in this society.

Mom and Dad, my loving parents. I'm the one taking the photo.

This was during my breif, but glorious period on the boxing curcuit. I managed to take down a lot of opponents before meeting my nemesis, Sugar Ray Leonard (pictured here). I managed to best him for a few rounds, but as usual, my lack of arms ended up as my downfall. At least I was in the sports spotlight for a small period of time, and Sugar Ray bought me some banana daquiris afterwards.

As a part of my 'Up With Squeeze Toy Rights' campaign, I decided to become the first sentient object on the moon. And I made it, too! Not needing to breathe makes things so much easier, and I'm resistant to reentry burn. However, once I arrived, I had an unfortunate accident when the first MEN on the moon showed up and stepped on me. This is the only photo I've found to prove I was ever there. Sigh.

For awhile, I found love with the beautiful Marilyn Monroe. God, she was wonderful. We had fun playing around on the set of the Seven Year Itch in this shot, me levitating slightly on the vent gusts. However, she moved on to other men, ones more like her own species, the kind that are tall, dark and handsome (as opposed to me, Little, Yellow, Different) and left me behind. I was happy to be her main squeeze, even if it wasn't for very long.

I sought enlightenment amoung the stone statues of Easter Island in the mid 70s, trying to understand life. However, I didn't get much out of the experience, other than being squashed near death for a full year when I accidentally knocked one of the statues over. Oops. Hopefully, nobody will ever find out about that.


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