BILLINGSGATE POST: There’s nothing like a good duck story to start the New Year. And nobody tells a duck story better than Elmer Smuckmeister, the most famous resident of Beaver Crossing, Nebraska.
He swears it happened. It was duck season in Nebraska. V-shaped formations of Mallards and Pintails had been easing down into the cornfields and ponds for the past two weeks.
This was the best time of the year for Smuckmeister. He was all geared up with his Male Mallard Duck Hunting 3D Printed Shirt, which he wore under his Duck Camp Vantage 3L Softshell Late Season Wetland Jacket. Covered up to his breast bone with L.L. Bean Apex Waterfowl Bootfoot Waders, he was ready to roll.
It goes without saying that any duck gun should have swivel studs so you can have your hands free for carrying decoys or wading. Also, a waterfowl gun should be fairly drab, to keep wily ducks from spying it. And that is why Elmer sticks with his old Winchester Model 12 to knock ‘em out of the sky.
It was late afternoon. Elmer had been up since dawn. Even his decoys were getting bored. But finally, just before he was ready to pack it in for the day, quacking like a berserk Banshee rag picker, he drew a threesome of handsome Mallards into his sights. He pulled the trigger on his Remington 12 and saw one of the birds fall from the sky. But he didn’t drop straight down. The wounded duck flew off until he hit a farmer’s barn, falling to the ground; dead as a duck.
Elmer followed the duck to the duck’s final destination. But upon reaching the fallen fowl, he was stunned to hear that the farmer, Joe Cocolochec, was claiming the duck as his own.
“WTF are you saying, Joe? I shot the sumbitch and he’s mine, pure and simple.”
“Not so fast, Elmer. He hit my barn, and by common law, I can claim him mine, by adverse possession.”
“You’re full of shit, Joe. I want my fucking duck.”
“Then let’s settle it the country way, Elmer.”
“We square off and kick each other in the nuts until only one of us is left standing,” said Joe.
“And I get the first shot, cuz it’s my idea.”
So Joe drop-kicks Elmer in the nuts, and Elmer flops around on the ground, finally gets up holding his groin and says, “Its my turn now.”
“Naw,” said the smirking Joe. “You can have the duck.”
Dr. Slim: “I love duck stories. That was a Hell of an ending.”
Dirty: “Yo, Dr. Dude. I hope the duck wasn’t hurt.”