David Theus

It was 1984, my friend Doug and I decided to take a semester off from school and go to London and work and travel for the summer. Well, as you can imagine after the initial culture shock of being in a foreign land and realizing we could survive, our summer trip turned into almost twelve months abroad, including a four month stint traveling all over the continent by train.

By the time we had been there thirty days; we had spent all of our money and were on the phone to our parents crying to them to let us come home. After a quick pep talk from our parents, we decided to sweat it out, but now we were broke and had no jobs to speak of. With no money left, I had to negotiate with our Indian landlord, to keep our passports for one month’s rent; in exchange we would solicit other American students on the same exchange program to live at his building, it worked.

Doug was working at the time for a Pizza place that chose to not invite me back after one days work, and I was unemployed. The good news, both of us still had our pre-paid travel passes within the city, and we had just enough cash left over to purchase enough spaghetti so that we could split a pound of noodles between us and share one can of sauce. We were on our fifteenth day in a row of spaghetti - oddly I still love spaghetti today.

Doug left for work one day and I decided to head out and basically bum around town for the day. After some time passed, I found myself near Buckingham Palace for some people watching. After a few minutes of that, I headed for Buckingham Palace Gardens just adjacent to the palace to one side. This is a gated park with a long body of water and a paved path with benches for stopping and admiring the water fowl that call it home.

There were massive white Swans, followed by equally large black Swans with red beaks. There were what I knew to be Coots and both male and female Mallard that I thought were only available in North America. The Mallard’s gave me a sense of comfort because of my days at home in Florida. After a short walk, I noticed these converted gum ball machines loaded with what looked to be Cheerios. For five pence you could purchase a hand full of Cheerios to feed the birds.

As I reached into my pocket to get a five “P” coin, I quickly remembered, I was broke and didn’t even have a nickel to my name. After a few minutes of frustration and wanting to feed the ducks, I happened near a machine that looked as though some kid had spilled his loot of Cheerios all over the ground beneath it. All I had to do is stoop down and sweep the pile into my hand and off I was to take part in the feeding of the ducks.

With my hand full of some crushed and some still whole Cheerios, I began a subtle grunting noise almost under my breath. This sound I knew was the sound that Mallards made when they were feeding. To my surprise I had caught the attention of a ripe, plump female that was making her way towards my hand from out of the water.

This is where I have to stop the story to ask if you have ever experienced an epiphany? Better yet, do you know what an epiphany is? I took the liberty to look it up for you. Epiphany: a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

As she began to waddle hastily in my direction, I suddenly had an epiphany. It was like a message from God, at the very next moment, I took the opportunity to quickly survey my surroundings for any possible witnesses to what was about to follow. It was like a dream, I was on full throttle instinct acting on the lessons I had learned as a young boy hunting the waterways of my homeland, Florida.

Just as she started to nibble with confidence the last of my supply of Cheerios from the palm of my hand, her beak feverishly sought every last morsel. Just then, with the quickness of a rattlesnake, I grabbed her by the neck and rung it as hard as I could, secretly securing her now limp body under my left arm and inside my jacket. Luckily she didn’t put up much of a fight and I was able to secure her firmly in my jacket as I nearly sprinted to leave the park in the direction of the nearest underground tube station that would take me home.

Now, if you know anything about what usually follows after a wild animal has been slain and taken from its natural habitat, this will be just one more opportunity for you to howl. After boarding the train, I couldn’t help notice that others had begun to stare at me with a sense that something wasn’t right. Quickly I began to wonder, had they somehow been there and witnessed me slaughtering one of Her Majesty’s ducks? Had I somehow missed them in my initial glance for any on-lookers right before I had rang this ducks neck?

Just as my curiosity was about to explode and I started to question these fellow passengers as to what they were looking at. An older gentleman standing next to me and holding the strap began to advise me that I had a mess running down the left side of my pants stemming from under my jacket. Just then I took a moment to investigate his findings and that’s when it hit me. Not only was there a mess running down my leg, but it was the root of the foulest odor that only fowl could produce.

In the moments after the strangling and my desire to disguise the remains under my coat, I forgot a cardinal rule when it comes to hunting wild game. This particular duck had not fully passed on until some time under my arm and the walk to the train station. At which time she decided to “pass on” and all over me as it were. Needless to say, much to my roommate’s surprise that night when he came home from work, spaghetti dinner was put on hold. Tonight we dine on duck, I proclaimed when he entered the door, Her Majesty’s Duck! Long live the Queen!