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Duck

There he was.

The old man shuffled to his bench in the park perfectly on schedule, and the scene was set. The picturesque pond was full of lily pads, frogs, and swimming ducks. Next to it, a big shady tree threw its umbrage over the same bench the man had sat down in. A bag of bread crumbs emerged from an ancient coat pocket, and the ducks quickly clustered around him.

A smile spread on the man’s lips, and he quickly threw the stale crusts out into the crowd. The squabbling started, and ducks were everywhere. A few children came to watch, their mouths slightly open as they wondered at the scene before them.

The man nodded at them, and then, looking back towards the ducks, he pulled out a small gun from his coat pocket and calmly shot two mallards through the head. The children cheered, and the man took a small, hunchbacked bow before shuffling over to pick up his spoils.

Duck: it’s what’s for dinner.

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